The brown strength of roots <br />and the decadence of ripeness <br />fall full against the golden arms <br />that strain to hold the southing sun <br />above the grasp of shadows. <br /> <br />The mellow scent of pears and melons <br />are sharp & brass & sad as bedrooms <br />when the light and passions pass; <br />I kiss my lips and close the drapes <br />and sigh myself a welcome.<br /><br />Steven Silent Wolf<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/september-16/
