“It’s Much Too Late”

“It’s Much Too Late”
(c) 2017 by Michael L. Utley

Autumn rain
Cannot slake
Summer’s thirst

It’s much too late
For yellowed grass
And barren field

Leaves which fall unseen
Litter ground in mounds
Scarlet memories

It’s much too late
For mountain leas
Devoid of hue

Flowers fade
Petals drift
On chill wind

It’s much too late
For drought-cracked earth
And bitter weeds

Which cling to parched dirt
Brittle claws succumb
Snap like frail bones

It’s much too late
This autumn rain
Which rills the ground

Sweeps away
All that’s left
Of summer

It’s much too late
To heal the wounds
Of all that’s lost

All that’s left behind
All that’s left of life
All that’s left of me

It’s much too late

3 thoughts on ““It’s Much Too Late”

  1. Thanks for your kind comment. I do my best, but as someone who has dealt with depression for a lifetime, sometimes it does indeed seem like there may be no tomorrow. However, writing out these feelings helps me see them from a different perspective and gives me the push I need to get through the dark morass of depressive thoughts. Writing is therapeutic and cleansing in this way.


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