Autumn.
Everywhere the ground is decorated
with the raspberry leaves of autumn,
A celebration of the transition
the short span of time before death
but after life
living, but not quite as vibrant
as the warm breezes induced by summer
cool breezes are introduced.
some say more refreshing
others say bitter
the cool air is welcomed upon flushed cheeks
playfully teasing the flaxen hair that flies
in every direction
hands carefully pat down the wild hair
in attempts to look more civilized
less like a vagabond ambling around the streets
piles of bright crimson leaves being ambushed
children jumping into them with glee
the crunching of thousands of canary leaves
can be heard for miles
or at least blocks
Serenely the stranger watches
yielding to the wind
the golden hair streaming around her face
wishing fervidly that she could be seven again
maybe even for the rest of her life
the time before innocence is stolen
or sometimes given up willingly
She turns around; goes home
the home with no lights on
with no one there waiting for her
checks for messages that aren't there
and lies down alone; again
it seems an eternity ago
since she met someone so special
she had someone to share this time of transition with
she can hardly remember the last time
she felt a warm body next to hers
and eventually dozed off in spite of the cold felt
in the world
in the bed
in her heart.
30 October 1997