Friday, November 03, 2006

wasted

wasted

Quiet solitude.
The sadness of a vacant seat,
the prospect before it revealing
regal jewelled Autumn.
Trees bedecked in dripping gold,
challenge the waning sun for brilliance.
Paths and grasses festooned
an extravagance of coloured clothing
bathed in crisp air.
Wasted.
The empty seat a lone spectator
to the performance artist
hiding the greens of summer
with a last brush of colour.

2 comments:

Cami said...

It might have been wasted if you hadn't shared it with us in this beautiful way--thank you, Keith!

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