Beauty, Have Pity on Me

A Poem

Beauty, have pity on me.

Springtime is a young man’s game; I dread Summer’s heat.

Autumn’s warm jewel tones, complement the cool light of October, playing well in my scheme, my eternal timeframe, enduring, eluding my incessant need for beauty, opting in finally, to a galaxy of newfound riches, trees and flowers befriending me, in my bewilderedness, offering elaborate elegant explanations of things beyond vanity speaking their truth to me, without pity.

©Scott Zosel — Thanks for spending a moment with me, beautiful friends!