We walk – apart
as autumn blusters her calling pipes.
Red berries huddle the Holly trees
their arms out stretched before them
No symmetry –
No sound –

We stand – apart
dead as elms
our words slowly resonating calm.
I need to lick the doubt from your eyes
sow new my pledge of spring.

It is no effort to want your love
allowing your perfume to strike my lungs.
See how the apple red, still clings in hope
for to fall would damage, its tender skin.

Is there a beginning in this, our end?
You answer –
turning to leave me – alone…

Poppy October 6th 2013 ~xx~


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