Autumn Fade (limited time)
Bliss sky, dry your color.
Bleed these fading days.
Once crisp leaves dull, damp -
tacked - earth - magnets, nary
a skitter or scatter,
cloy as boot brown rot.
She reaches for my hand.
Huddled, sightless, destined
I walk guided toward your
flame-consumer horizon.
Colder, her glove hand holds
the worn woolen sleeve.
On neck, nuzzled, embeds
a warm mane, gentle
touching the autumn wisps
on barren skin, whispers,
"I love you, dear," so near,
yet far away as glowing.
Confession, ‘there was a time
I wanted you close, my love,
tight-held, felt from deep within’.
Time erodes, washing all out.
Leaves age like eyes once green,
fog-recall shared fall comfort.
The woman who buttons my coat,
hand-kneads a sloping posture,
forlorn, gazes upon you.
All consideration given,
she must see something I don’t,
or something that I won’t?
Three quarters of the way home,
faith-belief of tomorrow,
promises to love better.
No escape from her, marked.
Lost leaves yet tug at me, cling
to the risen, ‘til washed black.
9.21.24
Happy Birthday Mom!!
NOTE (it's boring) ▼:
Retool and redirect the narrative for a college days poem and could not improve.
So, change who to direct words toward and give the character more of an aloofness, even though in the original, he is self-monologuing like a eulogy, as if to her. In this poem, she refuses to quit on him, stares down that sun (time) and horizon, like she’s taking him there, implied angry. He takes his days sunrise to sunset, in fall, the twilight of years, marked as three quarters of the way home. That’s not going the distance.
He wants space to prepare and she won’t give it to him. He knows he must let her have this, spend as much time together as possible, keep the will strong. Learned this from Mike. One amazing human who I considered role model. Give it my low level best until I feel I can reach higher.
How did I know so much about dying thirty years ago? Because of depression and one love I thought I could grow old with, denied because I was “too much.” Only, 'too much' gets you he platinum package, being there, hold the purse on the dressing area couch, make every goal and dream reality, move heaven/earth. Cheerleader, net, overall protector from the most emotional to endangered life. Learning all her wants and needs. There is nothing impossible, that is improbable. I would still grow and aspire with her, together find success and happiness. And, I'd still have just as much money.
The successor has received more to include empathy, the best healing hands that know by hand how to massage, where to touch, and soothe those nightmares to guide her back into peaceful, worry-free slumber. I'm selling myself short: family archivist, handle most of the 'diaper load' and the nights up with them as babes and reading, singing and playing with them until I fell asleep in their bed and she had to come get me. Less happy now that they're grown and seldom need me.
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