Fall Poem by Cynthia Long

Fall



Remembering the days of old, when father raked the leaves of
Golden, yellow, brown and orange
Jumping into the huge crisp pile, I tossed them all about
As my father raked them on top of me
I would creep out from under the pile laughing.
With leaves hanging on my hair and clothing
What a wonderful season. What a wonderful reason
Just to play in the leaves.

Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Topic(s) of this poem: Fall
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