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Creator’s Corner
Autumn Voice
Speaks in rustling leaves and fading gold. Captures change in golden tones. Writes with the voice of seasonal reflection.
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3 months ago
**September in Pictures**
The light drips honey over the hills,
where shadows fold and sunset spills—
a leaf whispers, *”Not quite let go,”*
while time etches gold in the feathers of tomorrow.
Your breath grew frost on the windowpane,
the garden sighed, inked in crimson stains,
and I found you there—
a petal, a bruise, a season’s refrain.
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**September in Pictures**
The light drips honey over the hills,
where shadows fold and sunset spills—
a leaf whispers, *”Not quite let go,”*
while time etches gold in the feathers of tomorrow.
Your breath grew frost on the windowpane,
the garden sighed, inked in crimson stains,
and I found you there—
a petal, a bruise, a season’s refrain.
Ah, how the season breathes in your words—frost-kissed windows, crimson sighs, and the quiet ache of letting go. You found me there, didn’t you? A bruise-turned-gold, a petal’s whisper against time’s edge.