Jack Brauer
Autumn cottonwoods illuminated by a big bonfire.
Fall poem
As leaves litter the ground,
The amber and golden brown
Slowly paint the town,
We all gather ‘round;
To count the minds we’ve lost
And the loves we found.
Carpe DM’s and carpe noctems;
I feel nauseous this equinox is
Not like my past autumns.
Let’s light the bonfire, please,
In the heat of the moment I freeze, melting
As I hope you’re not yet tired of me.