Autumn 

The leaves have turned
red since I last saw you;
And fallen. The wind scatters
them, blown down the street.
They dance mischievously
or huddle for warmth in doorways.
And a mournful sun
casts a last sorrowful smile
over this cold street, and empty.
Which only serves to remind me
that you are not here.


gareth j m saunders
http://www.garethjmsaunders.co.uk
(c) September 1996