(Diminishing Verse)

Autumn’s inexorable sword, through branches cleaves 

Helpless, trembling trees, weeping burning leaves

Cries of mourning doves, haunting the eaves

Disappearing in darkening skies, leafless boughs despair

Clinging fast to our shadows, we two, drifting, a pair

Leaf touching leaf, silence, slow dancing on air

Whispers of endings, clangour, and chaos, everywhere

Now ‘when’ is the question, it is no longer ‘where’

Fall’s lost amber and my soul, will both rest here

When our seasons, finally, have torn me asunder

It is autumn’s wing, they will find me under

©Ann Bagnall