autumns come quickly this year
chilled panes
i know
for i am an autumn child
birds hardly sing
conspiring their winter retreat
feeling older
summer hope and dreams
gone
in the distance
construction hurried
avoiding autumn rain
sheet will soon fall
things are starting to die
withering, they turn colors.
WHAT OF LOVE?
not one iota closer
in sleep
fitfully pushes clouds aside
behind each cloud
never there
morning brings
reality
hard mattress
cold pillow
i sit
clock ticks
hammers hammer
autumn comes

loved this