October 26, 2011
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The best symphony in the entire world
is that of crunching leaves
in synchronization with the hum of the wind
and farewell chirps of the birds.
As the branches hang low with sins of summer
begging the snow and rain to wash away the secrets.
The moon full and unadulterated by the stolen
midnight kisses and empty beer bottles
it has tasted in months before,
Over shadowed by double parked cars and
the shrill wine of metal plates against rubber tires.
Flame leafed children scatter with staccato footsteps
as the shine of the steel street lamps fade away the color.
A mother’s echoing voice resonates across the circle drive
like a beating drum.
Doors slam shut, curtains draw together
with a loud grate.
All at once the symphony of screams, reds, wind,
and gold silence themselves, leaving only the strum
of the leaves swimming over cement.

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This article has 6 comments. Post your own now!

Signed_DK said...
Nov. 11, 2011 at 3:52 pm
Something seemed different about this poem that I don't usually hear. Only a TRUE journalist could make something like this.
Danealle replied...
Nov. 11, 2011 at 3:54 pm
haha aww thank you! You are too sweet!
Kvothe28 This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Nov. 11, 2011 at 12:57 pm
I really liked it. "As the branches hang low with the sins of summer..." That was my favorite line.
Danealle replied...
Nov. 11, 2011 at 2:43 pm
Thank you!
Nightingale2write replied...
Nov. 23, 2011 at 6:53 pm
This is really good. I love all the descriptions. Keep it up! *applause* xD
Danealle replied...
Nov. 23, 2011 at 8:07 pm
haha thank you! For some reason I can't find any of your work:(
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