Francesco

Angels and Bagpipes

Pre-emptive aches, a hollow chest

as autumn reappears

and darkened foliage front and rear

lay down the robin\'s nest.

 

As blurry sights approaching near

(the end of all things wild)

returns invasive yet so mild

an unexpected fear.

 

Attentive like a frightened child

who ventures in the snow,

an ever-incoherent low

destroys an all-time high.

 

Gradually fades the summer glow

into a sombre sound,

when angels gather all around

and bagpipes cease to blow.

 

Relentless in an inward bound

reflection, shoots a dart

a silent smile is the rejection

that annihilates the heart.