A Better Love Tomorrow

A blissful sky bleeds dry its color.
Wet but crisp leaves
lie scattered to rot and brown,
in the fading light, cloy
at the soggy ground.

You reach for my hand.
Still cold, we huddle closer.
We walk with no destination
toward some horizon,
sending away our sun.

You nuzzle my neck,
touch my hair and whisper,
"I love you, dear."
I know you are near,
but it seems so far away.

There was a time
when I wanted you close,
tighter, inside me whole.
Time washed away memory
these aged eyes now foggily see.

The woman who buttons my coat,
scratches my tender back
and looks forlornly into my eyes.
She must see something I don’t,
something that I won’t.

The sun will rise again,
three quarters of the way home.
Tomorrow, I will love better.
These leaves tug at my shoes,
as the sky washes to black.


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Last year for this Autumn collection before permanent deletion from account.