
Homestead of Autumn
The air is stitched with embered leaves,
Soft sighs of homeward wind that grieves,
For summer’s laughter, faint and far,
Now folded ‘neath October’s star.
Stone walls remember every flame,
Each sunset whisper speaks your name,
And hearthlight hums its tender art,
Of gathering warmth to bind the heart.
The road runs long, yet always bends,
To where the smoke of twilight sends,
A promise, simple, pure, and known,
That Autumn is the soul of home.

~ Morgan C. Morgan
Writer of light, shadow, and the stories between.
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Lovely. “Air is stiched…” Ahh.
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Thank you 🙂 I’m so happy it touched you and brought a sigh!
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