the autumn wind

The grey autumn sky is invaded by images of a past so daunting it's whole realization is something so sureal it bewilders even the most absurd absurdities.


Pictures lie in piles on our hardwood floors, pictures of things I can no longer ignore, like her greying skin, under the pale moonlight or her hair that seems to fade a little more from my mind each day.


Sitting, in a hospital room I flash a shot of a glimmering moon that casts its greying rays upon a rooftop so beautifuly white just like her face, an angel of grace, a soldier of death.


Taken from me were images, of a future so clear, so strongly epervescant on the windowsill on a clear autumn evening, the crisp air runs like wild horses through her hazelnut hair.


Kicking so feverishly for a snapshot of life, and her hands, fall limp from fighting a good fight, the glimmer of the aumtumn moonlight is shone from our wedding rings, our reunion in the heaven's is all I hope for.


All I yearn for in a life not fully lived, not fully realized without her sharp eyes peircing my eternal shield, that kept me from feeling everything I should have felt.


Like a piece of wisdom taken from some prayer, I think to myself why was it there, why was it staring me back in the face, an elephant in the room that had no place in our lives.


Sitting with her hands faded and grey, preying soft prayers, up to a god that would not head a warning in my thoughts, and all i could say was everything would be ok.


It wasn't her time I kept saying with a grin, even when the treatments were wearing her thin and withering away at her already greying skin, I see a photo of times where we'd be nothing but happy.


The frames of these photos are withering away, withering to nothing, sitting on a table filled with boxes of old memories, filled with happiness that now is buried in a box six feet deep.


Looking into my last bottle of old gin, sitting with nothing but a life full of sin, nothing can bring her back now, all that remains is a memory that still seems to cloud around me today.


A fading image, of her beautiful face, that pierces away even the most troubling of times and places and things that will never be the same, without her hazelnut hair, dancing in the mid autumn wind.


I don't think that life will ever be lived in these old greaying eyes, that died so many years ago right beside that moon white hospital bed, you layed so still, like an angel who finally had her wings.


Finally free of all of that pain and all of the times that you spent with me, free of hurt and guilt and sin, and finally going back home again.


As I sit with a grin, just waiting, wishing, hoping for the day when I can see your hazelnut hair running like a wild horse in the mid aumtumn wind.