A poem based on a dream I once had...inspired by the ending of a book I once loved. |
The wind was changing again I had walked towards him, Sitting, in jeans and an old grey shirt Unaware Of the trees adorned in fall's colors And the distant memory three feet away from him I stopped short I could already see his face The handsome vigor within prominent features I looked around. Time had raced on, abandoning things Iron grey and rusty Old statues standing in empty water fountains Such a deep contrast to the lovely golden orange Or was it a compliment That all things old and dead were Being showered with leaves From last spring? Leaves that were once alive themselves? Then the dreaded question Had I faded from his memory? Before I knew it, he was standing Holding a beloved hat in one hand The other a closed fist, thinking I could see it. My heart raced Like before, at a glimpse of him A squall of wind kept me from leaving His arm stretched out, wrist upturned To the sky And from his hand came ashes Swept up by the wind. Before he turned around, I had made up my mind. Somehow, the ashes were more Beautiful than autumn. |