The first autumn days are here. A time fer thoughts of the past, perhaps? At least, it is a time fer poetry!
Miss Jadite arranged the Autumn Poetry Competition today, and as usual I had ter send an entry. This one is based on a story me grandpa told me back in the day, of how them darker, chillier days made him think of times past. Enjoy!
A colour dear to me
A snifter made of sturdy glass, as clear as autumn morn I hold it gently in me hand, although me thoughts are torn For dark and cold are nearer now, the light is fading fast And while I still have things to do, I think about the past
I find a bottle on the shelf, a gift from years ago I pour its contents in me glass, I watch the gentle flow The liquid is of golden hue, a colour dear to me I take a sip and close me eyes, I let me feelings free
I think of choices ever wrong, of things I failed ter do I blame me actions in me youth, the wrongs I did ter you I rail against the wasted times, of riches spent in vain Me cheeks are wet from bitter tears, as cold as autumn rain
The liquid is of golden hue, a colour dear to me I take another thoughtful sip, and then at last I see The past is home to memories of sorrow, hurt and pain But if I had a second chance, I'd do it all again
The choices made those years ago, the errors of me ways They also made me who I am, they led to happy days They gave me friends who comfort me, forever strong and true And best of all, them made it so I fell in love with you
I drink the final golden drops, they make me feel aglow I hear yer calling from the bed, just like those years ago The dark and cold are nearer now, the light is fading fast But always when I look at you, I feel the summer last
Although we both are old and grey, our memories are strong Yer beauty always natural, yer ever looking young Yer smile as bright as autumn morn, it always welcomes me Yer hair the hue of golden brown, a colour dear to me