Unrequited
I’ve seen this pattern before, I always hope upon hope that
the story might end differently, but, it never does.
The smell of burning leaves is in the air, that damp, pungent
fragrance that rivals the finest resins in golden thuribles. The
damp-leaf perfume cleanses the mind of the sunny excesses
of and dreams from the summer, it scrubs the memory in
preparation for another year.
Winter waits. Patience is it’s virtue. Broken hearts will mend
during the long, cold nights. “Eventually.”, Winter says.
This autumn is just one more in the long list of annual
love affairs gone wrong, just one more unrequited love to
cry over as I watch it walk toward the door.
(2009)
