My Season for Living

Fall’s gate.
Hinges rusted.
Grayed slats
of pine.

An orchards season
without reason
falls upon
a winter’s climb.

This changed fence.
Twice mended since,
eternal time.

But in this path
I shall mend along
until its end
be mine….

For in that end
we all should find
hope eternally blind…..


© 2013 John Allen Richter

About johnallenrichter

I am an aspiring Poet and adorer of life, a conqueror of nothing. However I am a champion curator of truth and friendship and hold both of those things most dearly to my heart. Welcome to my mind's eye. I hope you will enjoy what you may find and please know that you have a friend here. View all posts by johnallenrichter

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