Autumn visits me.
My door is open.
She enters.
Dust on the shelf rises insolently
To glimpse her.
The room heaves, ashamed at its own nudity.
She bathes it in gold.
The summer sun shadowed my walls;
He would not look my way.
Spring perched on boughs of fair gardens
To love flowers, scent and song.
Mine lay strangled with briars, weeds and thorn.
But she comes - Amorphous Autumn.
Each year she visits when all is frail.
She sits near - a companion strange and pale.
Clad in gold and pallid gray,
Her hair swirling - an avenging fire.
She has Midas' touch and desire;
All turns to gold, then withers in despair.
She breathes the winter wind,
And lights the western sky,
And burns it with her resplendence.
She bereaves the earth of all life.
But she never forgets me.
She remembers me by name.
When she breathes I hear her call.
She howls at night as she cleans my wounds.
No tears but frost in those colourless eyes.
She rises - a queen at war -
With wind in hair and vengence in sword.
She brings me hope, she brings me fear;
She brings me life and death
Temptingly near.
A white stillness gathers 'round a white funeral
While she escapes into her white wonderland.
