Apple trees in Wilclows orchard
hold Autumns golden glow
long into Novembers gray gloom.
Pirates, clutching doomed dabloons
tight in their grip,
leap from scuttled ship.
Shimmering emeralds sink
into black ink depths,
last breaths, escaping in
diamond bupples, rising to
waiting blue sky
as bucaneers drown.
Last leaf floats
softly to the ground.
About Ken Greenman
Married and Happy. Retired and busy. Living in NC. 71 and counting. December 12, 2025 and it's 77! ... I would love some written comments, critiques, adulation or kind suggestions.... If you have the time and or inclination, please feel free!
Not in fear but by faith. We will see. See you later! If you ever want to talk for real, email me and I will send you my cell number.... I am enjoying this!
Poems by Ken 