autumn exhales a deep breath
as feeble leaves lose their grip
whispering sweet farewells
to nurturing limbs
I watch them cradle-rock
to the pulse of Mother Earth’s song
silently sweeping, weeping
but bravely repelling
the magnet of years past
finding new ways to grow
It’s Quadrille Monday at dVerse Poets Pub.
Write a poem of 44 words not including the title, including the word “magnet”.
De is our host.
mishunderstood 