How hickories, molt their, mortal skin
To the, lingering call, of a, lost magpie
Sweet September, spills, sublime sin
O’er resplendence, of the, moorland’s sigh!
When the mermaids, with their, golden braids
Enchant, the souls, searching solace
Sends shivers, down spine, splendid shades
Agape, when I see, wilds’ bliss, glorious!
A zephyr, rustles past, the dead
The last few breaths, of the, ebbing year
In a shroud, of gold, stitched, shred by shred
This relic, of death, is life’s souvenir!
Beyond fervor, of a, lovelorn bard
A mortal, truth’s, immortal thrall
A lasting bloom, in my, life’s boulevard
The Yellow Fever, Of, The Fall!
© 2020 Vikas Chandra