A view from a window

The fresh smell of morning dew
Reminds me of a time ago,
when the trees outside
(in their shades of viridian
and pale green),
were teeming
with chattering finches.

And autumnal fingers
gently enveloped the fields in
a white mist.

Now there is silence outside my window
And a grey terraced smudge replaces the trees.

A winter’s chill I cannot shake.

© 2010. Sarah Horne. All Rights Reserved.


~ by Story on July 7, 2011.

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