Fallen
Foliage fingerprints.
Prism mums,
Oft sunlight glints.
And dying things.
Flow’rs huddle low,
‘Neathe coming cold.
Day dies young
With setting sun.
And dying things.
Bug’s knees creak,
Old, aging, weak.
Bedtime’s early,
Heads soft and curly.
Just sleepy things…
Going Beyond Belief 
Great poem 😉
I’ve read a lot of seasonal poems over the past couple of weeks, and this is by far my favourite.
I really love this! It puts me in mind of Counting My Blessings from White Chrismas
“just sleepy things” I like this poem! 🙂
great thoughts expressed in well balanced lines and choice words
cute.
Happy Rally.
beautiful, love the light in your poetry.
🙂
Great line…bugs knees creak
beautiful description, come to poets rally tomorrow again.
🙂