{"sf1_id":630938,"sf2_id":"Rm0aYLZn","title":"Amber Scenery","author":"Fox_Fusion","words":371,"posted_at":"2013-12-16T19:53:00.000Z","tags":["Poem","Poetry"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/630938-amber-scenery","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/Rm0aYLZn","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/79/e9/79e994f1-efdd-4e58-abe3-5577ed7894a7","description":"#7 of Poetry\n\nUploading old poems. Please provide feedback, as I hope to continue editing and making these acceptable for publication.","content":"An amber hill on sunny day,  \nA cooling wind to guide the way.  \nFresh air blows through the scenery,  \nSends shivers through the greenery.  \nAcross the floor a yellow rug,  \nThe grass a carpet warm and snug.  \nAdorned in splendid autumn's dress,  \nThe ancient trees spread autumn's mess.   \nBeneath a stock of orange clones,  \nA golden leaf in fuller tones.  \n  \nYou amber delight for my eyes,  \nArranged in lower spectrum's rays,  \nYour tranquil colours reignite,  \nA love for season's final fall.   \n  \nInvigorating amber art  \nReturns the sense of endless youth.   \nA timeless beauty caught in sway  \nOf wind's caress upon my cheeks.   \n  \nComplete in vibrant shades of sun  \nIts warmth has overflown its form  \nThe excess seeping into skin  \nIn doing so completing me.   \n  \nThis scenery won't yield to force,  \nIt weathers through the toughest course.  \nA subtle touch of frailty,  \nA sobering reality.   \n  \nI draw upon the amber strength,  \nInhale deep of autumn air,  \nMy swollen breast about to burst,  \nWith season's love pushed through my veins.   \n  \nJust let me lie atop the grass,  \nAnd bury me in scenery,  \nBeneath a canopy of leaves,  \nSurrounded by the love of trees.\n\n\u0026nbsp;The leaves are falling off their perch,  \nCome crashing down,  \nAnd fade to brown.  \n  \nThe grass has withered under foot,  \nA hardened ground,  \nWith muffled sound.  \n  \nStripped bare of garb the trees are shamed,  \nThe wind will sigh,  \nAnd they shall die.   \n  \nThe amber has begun its shift  \nInto a frozen winter drift.   \n  \nSnow falls from high,  \nIt hides the leaves.  \nThe gentle breeze,  \nTurns cold and harsh.  \nBright colours dim,  \nIts life expunged.   \nAll smothered under ghostly shroud.  \n  \nThe final days of amber light  \nReplaced with frigid black and white,  \nThis broken land will symbolize  \nWhat death can always realize.   \n  \nMy hair is void of youthful flare,  \nComplexion drained of amber's care.  \nThe fate that befalls scenery,  \nMust some day end my misery.   \n  \nI collapse with my comfort lost,  \nMy strength is sapped by brutal frost.   \n  \nSuch effort needed just to crawl,  \nAcross remains of recent fall.  \nAttempt to escape painful sight,  \nOf seeing amber in its plight.  \n  \nNext year, if death will hold his hand,   \nI'll return to this hallowed land.  \nI await rediscovery,  \nOf former amber scenery.   \n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"Poetry","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/630929-animalia.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/631641-art-block.json"}}