This winter I wish To cocoon myself in warmth And not emerge again Until there is no chill Left in the air -Kel Dayheart


The orange of the pumpkin field Can be seen for acres See the age old traditions And the just started In tiny joyous faces As they seek the best Of the field to bring home -Kel Dayheart

Runaway Sparks

As we try to put out the fires We don't notice the sparks That are not quite snuffed And snuck away To continue causing chaos -Kel Dayheart

End of Summer

The jungle of the wind chimes Weaves through the breeze Carrying to where I am sprawled Trying to catch the last few rays Of a dying summer -Kel Dayheart

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑