Favorite Poems


Fall has fallen. The leaves are

yellow against the dark blue-

grey sky and the winds have

picked up. The winds that

are still warm and force your

eyes to close in silent reverence

to the sensations on your face

when they brush past; you can

almost hear the music in it, carried

from somewhere far too far away

just to meet you on this day.


Where does the wind go, where

does it sleep at night and what

secrets shouted into it does it

carry past our ears?

I am listening, I will always be


Whisper to me


Tyler Knott Gregson


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s