Fall

I have counted down the hours
as one might stroke their love’s hair.

Tumbling leaves slow the sun
marching behind light-dark cold.

Borrowed warmth, how I cling
to your rattling ruffle and clink.

Carrying with broad shoulders,
Wind cuts down the old growth,

Tearing the small hearts from
hands that grip on so tight.

Tomorrow, more will have fallen,
And mine coming to the fore.

I have counted down the hours
as one might stroke their love’s hair.

fall

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