Replying to a comment on:
Perfect Time of Year
(
Free verse
) by
wilco
The dead leaves falling, Swirling, Fighting over the last bit of uncovered ground. The evening air turning Colder; Perfect if not for lack of a coat. Hopeful for a new beginning. Different, If not for a lack of change.
zodiac
4-Nov-04/5:38 AM
I'm suspicious of poems which do that repeated-adjective-on-its-own-line thing. Call me screwy.
And I don't like the last two lines at all.
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