Tayama

My Last Season

In November as dry leaves fall…

The sky again is painted red…

As I sense my winter of dread…

Knowing again my loneliness…for you are dead…

What did we leave unsaid?

A heart never emptied remains frozen in uncertainty…

This is the month that you left me…

With whispers I could not understand…

As you squeezed my hand…

Will death be my peace with you?

Don’t let me see another season so bleak…

A season of dead leaves…with a cold that enters the heart…then breaks…

Let me join you in peace. First yours, now mine, and to become…ours.

In the certainty that love endures, whether breaths are taken or ignored, and that life is chosen as is death...for to have to breathe again without you? Please let this be my last breath.