Fri, 11/06/2015 - 12:27 -- mbass


United States

Still empty air

breathless and worn

so out of place

on this bright autumn morn.


As I pause to listen 

to the birds lively chatter

I can't help from dreaming 

of the sound of his laughter. 


The clear placid lake

and the cool autumn air

are matched by fall's beauty

and my deep dispair. 


The warmth on my face

makes me turn toward the trees

where I see a sunbeam

scattered by leaves.


As I stare at the trees 

red, yellow and green

the picture dissolves 

into our parting scene.


I turn back to the lake

the wind warm and strong

whispering the words

"he is gone, he is gone"

This poem is about: 


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