Autumn rose from languid bed, out of her naked repose
alongside my own.
Against the soft light of day the shadows lengthened
around her curves.
She turned to give a smile as her hair
fluttered in a wind that wasn’t there.
Leaning in, she whispered her discontent
with a delicate kiss, cool and crisp
meant only for me.
I saw her truly then,
a desperation sought after,
a sorrow borrowed,
a beguiling mystery to be followed
But eventually lost.
She was my season, my breath
drawn and exhaled so slowly
as to stop time in its tracks.
Yet, she fell away, eyes downcast
always knowing the direction
she would eventually go.
Don’t, I begged.
but instead live in me.
Through all the dark
and the cold to come, and scorching rays
And come back to bed with me.
By Philip Wardlow 2016