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
Annie's Poetry 