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Autumn Poem

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The immaturity of youth,
the roses of love; a large bouquet,
the riches of bankruptcy,
tunes and notes of an air instrument in sync.


Stalks of corn, each kernel a potential popcorn,
the Loud yelling of an individual always correct.


Joyful play of the puppets dancing and mocking.
Curiosity, discovery, anatomy.


Four notes to a beat,
Eight notes in an eighteenth,
Let's make a rhythm.


Let's make a song,
a symphony;
for my final requiem.


by Ergacia Ortjillo












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