by on May 6, 2024 :: 0 comments

Like veiled whispers,
fallen leaves cast dry shadows
along gray stillness.
Autumn’s desertion…
Nature’s pattern of decay
dangles in cycles.
Love me, love me not…
To be, or not to have been…

Stagnant hope shreds outlook
I miss our conversations
our ghostlike laughter.
Just one syllable?
My window is wide open…
Why not catch the breeze?
Scattered, crumbling leaves
will reveal words unspoken.
Table for one, please.

editors note:

What’ll it be for you and whom? One word, two? – mh clay

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