the room was quiet but for the near silent whisper of the curtain sheers dusting against the pane,
as the autumn breeze waltzed through the small opening in the window;
peering out, she relished the cool comfort

beyond the long stretch of yellow-tipped, green grass, was a thick wood,
brown trunks stretching into scarlet, papaya, and maize,
swaying in time with the breeze,
a postage stamp echo of the rural wood she knew as a child

closing her eyes, her heart clung to the tree-topped rhythm,
to the familiar, soothing music that belongs only to the autumn,
the peaceful, vibrant tune of youth

-image via Pixabay

Memories, a Quadrille

bare feet on rocky path, I walk on,
bending and reaching, collecting moments,
pebbles that fill my pockets, 
one by one by one

rattling, they tumble against one another,
some polishing, aging to fine gemstone,
while others crumble to sand,
slipping through my fingers

-image found via Flickr; shared as part of dVerse’s Quadrille night