The clock ticks another year towards its close.
Winter’s clothes will soon replace autumn’s leaf-strewn face.
Spring lies well concealed in the wings
And summertime is a half remembered rhyme
In the ageing poet’s mind
Where everything repeats
And time defeats.
Until all as leaves fall.
K Morris - Poet 
This is a beautiful and poignant meditation on time, memory, and cycles. The opening line is a powerful, personified metaphor—the clock doesn’t just mark time, it actively ticks toward an ending, setting a solemn, thoughtful tone.
The progression of the seasons is masterfully handled. They aren’t just described; they are imbued with human and artistic qualities. Autumn has a “leaf-strewn face,” Spring is a concealed actor “in the wings,” and Summer becomes a fading artistic creation—a “half-remembered rhyme.” This culminates in the brilliant, melancholic image of the “ageing poet’s mind,” where the cyclical nature of existence transforms into a feeling of repetition and defeat.
The final line, “Until all as leaves fall,” is devastating in its simplicity and scope. It gently echoes the “leaf-strewn face” of autumn, but expands it into a universal, quiet conclusion for everything. The grammar here (“all as leaves”) has a timeless, almost archaic quality that feels perfectly suited to the “ageing poet’s” voice.
It’s a short piece that carries the weight of a much longer reflection—the mark of truly condensed, effective poetry. Wonderful work.
Thank you so much! I am delighted you appreciate my poem.
❤
Thanks for commenting and liking, Beth
Merry Christmas, Kevin
And a very merry Christmas to you too, Chris.