The Autumn Spreads Its Arms for Me

The autumn spreads its arm for me
Beneath the blue-white dome,
To smell the fields of harvest and
To find my way back home

To where my heart is waiting to
Be once again made whole;
And far from strangers who would use
The last drops of
My soul

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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.

3 thoughts on “The Autumn Spreads Its Arms for Me”

      1. LOL. Fair enough. The last few days have been kind of crazy around here.

        I have been writing a lot about aging recently. It came from some talks we’ve had at work about when I might retire. I’m like, “geez, push me out the door already, why don’t you?”

        It’s just life stuff. I’ll get over it.

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