A Fallen Ambassade

Blades of frozen grass
Prickle in the breeze
Shattering like glass
Beneath my warm, bare knees
Pedals curling fast
On summer daisies
Giving in, at last
To autumn’s grand appease

So my fingers grow numbed
On the strings they once strummed
And the pen rests on the page
A fallen ambassade

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

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Jo Writes Fantasy

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