Pale blue violets shimmer
Among rag-tag fungal forests.
Branches tick-tock with
Burly blow of the sky;
Forgotten blossoms from
Your failed antiquity.
The summer that once was
Is hungry for more.

Discontinue your reticence,
Only you can consume your fate.
Green will gorge on you
Despite the bitter chill.

So go, go now and
Sit amongst the campfire.
Forage for the hum-drum you forsake,
**** your soul on a marshmallow pick,
Then eat it all before the night falls.

Derelict tulip tips lay idle on the mantle,
Dangling on the precipice
Of time and the void.
Maybe I'll engage myself in a chat with Freud,
Tell him I'm envious, remorseful,
And annoyed.
Golly gosh,
Your soul tastes cloy.

Or was that the marshmallow?