autumn – Page 4

Dying Leaves

Dancing rubiginous leaves,
moving towards their death;
a colourful display of life.

We step amongst the leaves,
along the Melbourne streets.

Wishing we were also the leaves,
dancing without any inhibitions;
Knowing that life is too short.

Leaves turn red, yellow and brown;
fluttering in the Autumn winds.

A leaf moves from the Petiole
on the wind,
and collides with your face.

Dry leaf feelings on your skin
reminding you that nature is true.

There are no sunshine feelings between
the leaf and skin, yet you take the leaf,
put it between the pages of your book,
and take it home.

Leaves dying on their leaf stalks,
floating off, they move freely in the wind
more alive now the air has captured them,
to take them on an adventure.

Spring has come to your heart, yet I sit here in my Winter world wondering what you’re doing with all of those so-called, “friends”.

I love you, yet you are like a Hydrangea in bloom. Your love will last from early spring to late Autumn, yet it never sustains the Winter.

Warmth from the fire

We sit in woollen slippers

Watching the day fall away

Baked bread, butter and honey

Biscuits with cup and saucer tea

Baking ourselves in warmth all-day

Winter holds you frozen within her frosty grasp,
for she’s waited so long for jealous Autumn to go.

Your heart beats slow in her cold wild arms,
yet she knows Autumn’s fate will be her own.

The snow falls on your hair and face to warm you,
as Winter dances her wild cold dance around you.

You love the way the snow makes your body feel,
for your heart is ice and your veins beat glacial water.

Sleep takes you into Winter’s slender arms again,
yet when you wake, the sun shines down on you.

In the ice, you lay as your heart starts to melt,
then as you look left, and then right, you see.

You slept within the pines last night, to your dismay,
only to find you did sleep between the Snowdrops.

The Snowdrops remind your heart that love is well,
as the shoots rise from the ice to find the sun.

The sea calls to the wind,
the wind calls to the sun,
the sun calls to the moon,
the moon calls to Winter,
and
the land begins to darken.

The last rose of Autumn
begins to take flight.

Petals ride on the wind,
for there is no sun;
only the moon and Winter.