The air right now is redolent with autumn
And places that he has yet to explore;
He hasn’t much to carry – that’s no matter –
He’s not weighed down with much to stay here for
He’ll say his brief goodbyes and then be going;
The rise, the fall are both his there to hold —
The autumn air is redolent with chances,
That aren’t outside the purview
Of the bold

Published by

Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

Leave a Reply