these last days

in this season
of bare trees and sepia toned landscape
when the world has gone mad

I can not help
but find beauty in these last days
each sun rise, a gift 
uncommon joy found in the light falling
on walls of faded pear and aquamarine

the bone structure of time
etched across the garden
the grace of winter in its quiet reflection
the freedom 

of loosing all constraints and ties
to whatever went before
until I am left
boundless, evergreen

1 thought on “these last days

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