The yellow season begins, as the rust settles in.
Lingering warmth of days, into the chilling night.
As I prepare for the cold fight ahead.
I contemplate the joys of the past, against the struggles now and ahead.
I look forward towards the vanishing point, the inevitable never-end.
© 2019 W J Fitzgerald
Lorna Lamon on August 17, 2019:
I love the richness of the lines in this beautiful poem and the anticipation it creates.