Autumn Alone

The oak leaf changes to scarlet

and the golden maple leaves tumble down

Softly joining the others in the frosted field.

I remember autumn when you were here,

the peace, the joy of your presence,

The warmth in the growing cold.

From long ago, come memories,

Not of joyful autumns or your touch,

of your hair thrashing in the wind,

but of those seasons –

of this season-

when the world and I saw autumn-alone.

1978

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