It’s autumn…
Summer’s leaves are dying,
Bleeding, falling, crying…
She’s leaving.
November…
Stars come out all shining,
Flashing, falling, pining…
She warned me.
At college…
Lonely, lost and longing,
Loveless – not belonging…
She wrote me.
At twilight…
Manic moon’s arising,
Macabre, not surprising…
She rang me.
In darkness…
Blinded, broken, breathless,
Bitter, bent and restless…
She told me.
It’s morning…
Woke to Song Thrush singing,
Wood she had been bringing…
She burnt me.
It’s evening…
Watch the late night lovers,
Hide under the covers…
She broke me.
At midnight…
Church bell started ringing,
Chime the dead out bringing…
She killed me.
At sun rise…
World awakes from sleeping,
Wake up – heart is weeping…
She’s left me.
It’s autumn…
Summer leaves are dying,
Bleeding, falling, crying…
She’s leaving.
-
Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: September 17th, 2019 02:06
- Comment from author about the poem: don't worry; she returned 32 years later!
- Category: Love
- Views: 12
Offline)
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