Friday, November 7, 2014

November



The stillness of a November afternoon
lies heavy across the lawn strewn 
with sticky, damp leaves.




And I swoon at the memory of you.
Of all that was lost
and might have been.




I cannot see beyond myself, sometimes,
heaped too high.




I will leave this pilgrim place,
one day,
for a new creation.




Where love will wipe all sorrow away
and cast our tears, yours and mine, 
to the glory of the wind,


Where hope will gather us together, forever, again.

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