The last warm air of summer drew back
as the sun turned away,
the moon was faint through the clouds
turning grey.
Winter opened starless eyes,
her hard breath numbed the ground
where the dead leaves lay.
I thought I saw you today
at a distance
in the crowd.
You looked different somehow,
without me.
Flowers by the roadside
die so quickly in a vase,
you said.
I still find your hair
on my pillow,
your perfume lingers somewhere.
Maybe I'll see you again.
The rain has no sympathy,
spraying bright waves
in the breeze.
I walk,
more thoughtful now
through the shapeless wind,
Long coated in black and memory,
without your hand.
Time passes,
I become less sure of things.
The trees on the riverbank
still wait for you
in silence
2007-12-07
09:01:22
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10 answers
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asked by
alexandre
2
in
Arts & Humanities
➔ Poetry