Beautiful decay
Touched by Midas,
autumn arms shower gold
and the stench of death.
*I'm not saying this poem is any good, but these images struck my fancy as I rode in the glorious days before winter's cruel skin grew over every surface.
autumn arms shower gold
and the stench of death.
*I'm not saying this poem is any good, but these images struck my fancy as I rode in the glorious days before winter's cruel skin grew over every surface.
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