Uncover the Sun

Past Any Season

 

Autumn is everything-colored

except black and white,

magenta, dark purple,

orange and red and gold,

every shade ever seen in gardens

 

If we were leaves

would we love each other

far past youthful green

into the fallen months

of rusty brown?

 

Would we remember each other

long after we lay

on mossy ground,

slowly darkening

into earth again?

 

Every autumn I picture you

playing in the fallen leaf piles,

throwing them sky high

and laughing

past any season

 

Posted in Feelings, Grief, poetry.

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