[Wist(ful]lness)

The air is not as heavy
with the despair of
summer nights
wasted
and alone

When last we two
shared space
love
walks in the morning
the leaves were just beginning
to blaze

The fires on the horizon
were something at which
to marvel
A masterpiece of life
and death

Our tree was not
evergreen
The leaves have browned
and curled down
onto green green grass

there was no rebirth for us

come Spring
death was still in the branches
and the rains could not
bring the color back

I met you in the fall
but it is always winter now.