Author Jonathan Chaves River bank—the evening tides have started to ebb. Wind-swept woods—frosty leaves are thinning out. I lean on my cane; the bramble gate is quiet. I long for my friend; mountain colors—dim and faint. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments