A warm autumn afternoon,

reds and golds played

tag in the sun,

landscape for the house

of lost dreams.

.

You lay there almost inert,

following me with eyes

that told of

the coming release,

now welcome.

.

To have had a devine hem

for you to touch to heal

when your calander grew

so sparse and sands

cascaded down the hour glass.

.

All I could do

was speak softly,

telling you how much

you meant to me,

and bring you a brandy snifter

filled with pink rose buds.

09/23/2005

Posted on 09/23/2005
Copyright © 2026 Jane E Pearce