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Rated: E · Poetry · Comedy · #2007734
No one is immune from the magic (Form: Quatrains) An Open Expression Poetry Contest Entry
Autumn Magic

Irascibly, the old man fumed
'neath greying brows that seemed to stand
like carcass bones, the flesh consumed,
their scattered remnants in the sand.

He watched the leaves fall from the tree;
their arcane dance was neglected.
The mess was all that he could see
with each rake full that he collected.

"I will prevail," in anger said
of suffering of life's dark trials,
'till shouts of glee soon turned his head
to watch as kids dove into piles.

He leaned against the rake to stare
as memories came flooding back.
For a brief moment, he could share
the joy found in a leafy stack.

He toiled 'till the job was through,
the colored quilt of leaves piled high,
then ran and ... in the air he flew –
his laughter filled the autumn sky!

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An entry for Round 2, "Open Expression: A Poetry Contest
Prompt: Open
Line Count: 20

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