oh the days
fly by

like confetti leaves
leaping from the safe embrace
of autumn trees
into the twirl and swirl
the crease and curl
that is winter

first the colouring
let go
they fly

that is for spring
for summertime
and growing

but now
a chance
while the whistle-wind
begins to howl

a party frock
a scarf
some trinkets

discard the veil

kiss the tree
kiss the tree of home
and fly

© Frank Prem, 2017

May 2017 Poem #21: a pattern

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