Most

Just when I think
it was the most beautiful,
I am surprised again,
taken a back as the summer
decides to leave.
It does not go away in a rush.
I watch each day
as the paints bleed through the blue
melting on this canvas
changing hues and revealing once again,
depth and presence.
My favorite are always the colors of splendor ,
fading into surprise,
leaving me with tears,
shaded in awe.
Wrapping me in embrace,
as I take in that last deep sigh,
as the sky blinks behind the horizon.
It is the most.

Raine Les 8/24/2009

how long have you been writing?

Mmmmmmmmmmm The changing of the seasons.

{{{Sadie}}} you have a way with words- ever so
beautiful, just as beautiful as the seasons changes.
Thankyou...