Autumn

The evening cool rolls across the lawns,

Lack of motion-- not a sound.

A field of pumpkins lay ripe on the ground.

The dried vines curling up, withering in yawns.

Nothing matters, benign burdens cease to exist.

This is autumn, bronzed as an old lithograph.

Safe zone...where all hatred is resisted.

Only a lens capturing color in a sepia picture.

I strolled on, lip syncing to my favourite song,

Thinking of you, glistening leaves on your doorstep.

Send me the anesthetic --sedating this prolonged absence.

Ruthless is this distance, so amplified, so wrong.

Days have skipped by, brilliant Olive colored skies,

Bordering crimson shrubs, Camellia and Chrysanthemum forests.

No, I can never be lonely, mirrored in hawk's cries.

Ever changing seasons, which we are powerless to resist.