Summer Of 72′

Long walks through New England woods
Backyard cemeteries once the rage –
Unrecognizable family names; epitaph in stone
Cloaked by a ceiling of muted color
…it seems nothing is the same this year *sigh*
Orange, red, gold pierced by non-discriminate
Rays of sunlight for viewing – pleasure and delight
Stone walls randomly appear; comfort zone a place to rest?
My best assumption
My best guess…
And poems by fellow poets from another time
Whispers of their relevance with rhythm and rhyme
And images wrapped in long white flowing garb,
Smile and turn, as not to hesitate but to warn
…of sticks and stones will break my bones…
The Raven of October
Is never very far from view
Last sighting was the summer of 72′

©2020 TrilbyYates