Islands | Dean J. Baker – Poetry, and prose poems

I'm a poet, musician, songwriter

#poetry

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FALL

I love the odor of decaying leaves; The smell of death, the scent of grief: In every hue and color A widow’s wrist, thin and brief

The absence that I feel in everything – Dear friends gone, amid The fog through the streets, The nip of a winter winding-sheet

The spirit of our love asleep, The aspect of each object incomplete: Without recurring seasons, none Escape nor dare not celebrate in evening

©Dean J. Baker

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