8 lines, 8 syllables, 8 prompt words----summer's end----for StormyLady's contest.
I have a slumber of stories
coursing like a mud brown river
down the burnt red ends of summer;
miner's gold awaiting dredging.
But the Perseids are tumbling
with a chilly, yellow twinkle
and I must heed their starry call.
My sleeping tales will hold, till fall.
Written for: "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest"