#1086771 added April 7, 2025 at 5:31pm Restrictions: None
October Blues
October Blues
Slow and low — I moan
a serenade, sung in a minor key
in hesitation, with hope, that the death
between us are mere embers,
sleeping, awaiting our touch.
I warm my fingers by their glow,
look around yet know —
like the weary leaves, you left —
for good — long ago.
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