Late October: 2020 Poem by DM W
Late October: 2020
It's late October. Rusted symbols fall
On solemn, muted earth. The acrid scent
Of burning leaves is filling up the air.
It stirs the senses. Autumn's potent muse
Awakens cold cinders of memory.
I remember times of joy; times of grief.
I remember bright summer days of green
I remember cherished ones long deceased.
In marked moments, we glimpse eternal truths.
In moments, we recollect and are healed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/9/2025 5:13:32 PM # 1.0.0
