Tag Archive | autumn

The Bare Trees

The end of etymology is official

The sun’s morbid desire

cranes over heavy clouds

Autumn wind sweeps mournful hours

Fallen leaves bury unspoken voice

                            Gone,

gone,

gone.

The Love Song

My cheeks were still wet.  I quickly wiped the tears and patted my pillow. Then I walked to the windows facing Brighten Avenue and looked down the street. The maple leaves covered the pavement, making a mosaic of colors. The fallen leaves in the shadow looked soggy. As I opened the window, the crisp morning air rushed into the house. The orange sunlight reflected off the windows of the neighboring apartment complex.

I thought of Kevin. Again. I didn’t contact him since our last walk along Santa Monica Beach one year ago.

“Kevin,” I said, “I decided to go to New York next week.  I got a job offer from a library in Brooklyn.”

“What?” The sound of waves cut in his voice. “How come you never mentioned that to me before making the decision, Claire?”

“If I had, would anything have changed?”

He didn’t reply, but he was gazing at the seagulls flying over the pier for a while. “I have no right to stop you. But I want you to understand. I can’t do anything now.”

The sun was westerly above the horizon, and the surface of the ocean gleamed with the orange rays.

A squeaky noise signaled a car pulling up outside my house. Now it took off again. The door bell rang. Opening the door, music floated in. Kevin was smiling there. He handed a tiny wooden case to me. It was a music box, the one we had found at an antique shop in Santa Monica. While the small box was playing our song, I took his hand and led him to my room.

Secret

Her scarlet nails

against the morning sun

are hailing a taxi.

A small suitcase at her foot,

she fastens the knot of her trench coat.

The yellow cab parallels her with a commotion.

Dry leaves on the pavement skitter in the distraction.

Her lips utter a deep sigh.

“To xxx, please.”

Somewhere only she knows.