Wednesday, October 29, 2014



Dusty feet on an unmapped road.
Wasps patrol for one last sting
Dampened senses singed by gold 
And Summer's last rose in final fling. 

Weary legs on that unmapped road
Clustered berries and blackened lips
Paling memories fueled by cold
And the wine of Summer that Autumn sips.

Maureen Walsh - October 2014

Ciao for now!

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