We all dance We all play We are going to have fun Today Finally the party’s done Now we leave Ending our fun.
the wind sings the browning leaves to sleep,
the wind sings the browning leaves to sleep, harvesting the warmth to be used next spring, to be dropped upon the crackling meadows and tempt the pinky-white blossoms to stretch their velvet petals to the sky after the cold.
PS: the magic page that will always jump you to the latest poem is "http://www.saintannsny.org/depart/computer/poems.html"