Reprieve

Autumn poem

In crisp autumn air, my footsteps crunch
the technicolor memories now laid over grass.
Yellow and auburn gowns at their feet,
the stark trees stand, shivering and nude.

All the world seems emptier, abandoned,
a shell of its former self.
Summer's vibrancy whisked away on the wind.
There is no room for pretense here.

If I close my eyes, the rustling sounds like rain and
if I am not careful
all I pretend I am
might get washed away.

Moments have passed we cannot use any more
and, our cloaks surrendered,
the trees and I
wait for spring.

Author's Note

ignore punctuation. comments welcome.

Reviews

[ice]

"the trees and I
wait for spring. "
indeed we do....but the trees are just resting, they are not dead, they are dormant.
"All the world seems emptier, abandoned,
a shell of its former self."
But their buds will bloom, wonderous greens and other colors...
Faith is knowing they will rise from the seemingly dead,
winter is a natural resting time for everything.
I like this poem very much...didn't mean to argue with its content.
Good job Heather.
ice