Petronella Phillips Devaney
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Poem for an autumn afternoon



she speaks in whispers

her laughter is oblique

softly wrinkled skin of tawny loam

tangled russet tresses

voice, crushed velvet; eyes ocean deep

scent of woodsmoke and of fern

her lips, scarlet berry.

she takes her time

shedding bits of beauty as she goes

each day, a step closer to the wintry arms

waiting to enfold her colourful abundance

in their thin white embrace


©Petronella Devaney        

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