soon to depart

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"Autumn Foliage" by Tom Thomson via Wikimedia Commons

a summer wind 
and softly, now, the whisper of fall
and these shadows, like snakes 
they creep down my wall 

and the sun, swiftly 
his chariot borne through the sky 
down, reaching, long fiery fingers 
and i don’t want to die 

in this desert of dreams 
of thoughts and sorrow 
for what i held yesterday 
was mine, only to borrow 

and i cry out for you 
but i cry out in vain 
for the thunder has passed 
leaving only the rain 

and here i am, to wander 
through this cage of desire 
with a lock that’s grown rusty 
and a smoldering fire 

and as once we spoke freely 
and now can speak no more 
and of all that we did say 
what hasn’t been said before 

and the time that we shared 
and these words are just sand
worn by the waves 
of what we don’t understand 

and yet other things, too 
i keep, still in this heart 
as i watch these forms, 
cast by twilight, soon to depart

Greg Alston is a gardener, cook, father and some other things, too.