The days are warming, warning, drying ,
Embers catch on dry leaves and come alive ,
Orange wisps under the grey sky ,
Darkened days ,here orange flames leaps to the heavens ,
The dry land's curse ,its memory, of yesterdays
Green vines with orange pumpkins,
Rambling free hither and thither ,
All a dream, withered land sighs ...
Pumpkin pies just a fantasy,
From a land long dead , no drops here to awaken ,
Crusted salt at its edges,
The land is no more ,just wisps of smoke
And the parched land sighs ,
Those wisps its thanks to the universe...
Poem by PC-3 (11/11/2024)
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