Friends Of autumn are not for all,
they bare upon those in pall.
To be a tree or leaf,
a question asked I can't believe.
Shall I smirk by the edge,
or voice along in their pledge.
The wind has me swept,
to a place where friends have wept.
Hope I remember my friends long,
wishing to write a song.
Should I let them strike a pose,
or how about a rhyming pose.
So I will write about the best,
not to forget the rest.
I'll start with Mr. Stratch,
notorious right from hatch.
He is the artist of the master stroke,
with a nose free to poke.
I shall never know what he seeks?,
in his depths or at peaks?
Then there is Mr. Right,
always stammered with fright.
He has the prowess to duel all,
but Oh! god, he is always the one to fall.
Willing I'm to see him as a prince,
and not being flushed away in rinse.
Enough said about the men,
for others I must ink my pen.
Of first I met the silken girl,
with flowering hair, making a blur.
Taffeta wrapped, on a starry night,
she is like a doll under panoramic light.
Yet she is a laughter box,
leaping grounds like a fox.
Next up is the bushy haired twidler,
mind you!, she is a sweet little dwindler.
She goes about, like a flowing child,
carefree, yet mischief's mild.
Either a traveller or a guide,
of all she does, she takes pride.
A duet joined in next,
making us do the un-expect.
A girl who can circle the line,
I proudly say is a friend of mine.
With a smile so sweet,
she is the one who makes us tweet..!!
Always with an 'Out'-look,
pouring things out of her book.
To form the duet is the dancung bee,
of all her props, is a significant flee.
With glazing eyes, she does focus,
though unable to find the locus.
She listens to the wind blow,
going about what people plough.
Will they be my friends for life,
or will I drop before being ripe.
These are questions galore,
ask I shall not for more.
One day each of them wil curse,
if ever myself shall I purse.
Tossing a coin, is what I tried,
it landed on its rim, and had me fried.
May I let my "Friends of Autumn" bloom,
or outsmart and let myself groom.
Is a question that pounds my heart,
flung on me like a dart.
Only god knows, what's my stand,
will I sing or break the band..?
"Friends of Autumn" is a different take,
to grow or shed, is what you make...!!
