But, now the autumn of reckoning,
Foul rains corrupt the light that's gone,
Now a growing fear of loss and lag,
As autumn leaves begin to sag.
Winter brews his discontent,
He toils day and night on wreck
Each day our test, no time to rest
Now We're running out of money.
But spring's ahead the clouds sound out
'You're halfway through the tunnel;
Though times ahead are dark indeed,
Let's not give up, and plant a seed!
For the coming spring'
Steven Hodgson
Orton Goldhay,
PeterboroughRead Poet's Corner every Saturday in the Evening Telegraph.Email your poems to
eteditor@peterboroughtoday.co.ukThe full article contains 121 words and appears in n/a newspaper.
