What do you do
when you realise
it was all an enigma -
the waning weeks
of autumn?



They giggled and made eyes
over steaming cups of coffee,
catching the sunlight
in their lashes and
morning air between
their teeth.



Amid the compactus 
and bookshelves,
they danced across
the pages of their own

secret romance.



They posed playfully
for photos in the crisp air
- two amateur artists
supervised by the sun,
tinged ever so slightly
with the frosty embrace
of winter and reawakening.



He knew (as she did)
these days were numbered,
evaporating into June,
so he composed love letters
in secret, pushing them
into hidden corners and
pockets of her life -



        an emergency chute
        to cushion their collapse;
        fire axe to forge a
        pathway home
        (break safety glass here).



But the finale
was too swift for salvation,
and though, like all young lovers,
they had prepared their limbs
for a more subtle fate - 
slow burn to fade - 
they quickly learnt there is
no roadmap to heartbreak