Still a few days left of April, the poem a day month, so here we go again.
MY FOOLISH HEART.
Rich, gold encrusted autumn
most precious of the seasons,
though death hangs as a distant mist
on yon not far off horizon;
within my heart still burns,
unashamed and unabated,
that fire of eternal spring
the mystery of life created.
Visit ann arky's home at www.radicalglasgow.me.uk
