after autumn

after autumn


the leaves are crying,
cheeks turning red,
then pale
breaking from branches of hope
illuminated by a serene sun
then falling into shadows
of burnt green
trampled tenacity

you are winter now
the halcyon sky
weeps white flakes
a chilly memory
as i peer out a frosted, winsome window

there will be no spring this year
the seasons have fallen in abysmal fashion

coats cover surface memories of you
but cold is embedded on the inside

and that chill lasts forever.


erin-cilberto
12/4/17

Reviews

[Jackie]

Sorta sounds like a love gone wrong kinda story and if so, a most impressive analogy. The way you described it using nature and season an all was pefect.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

thank you for your insightful review, Jackie

j.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

"Now is the winter of our discontent." Without the glorious summer sun of course...I'm reminded here of Steinbeck's novel and how the best laid plans of men often come to naught or something other than pleasant fruition. That grass that seems greener on the other side of the fence is often made that way from the heaps of manure one must navigate to travel there. Perhaps the sun will shine again and perhaps the grass less fertilized will flourish in time...who knows. But I have heard there is no future in the past no matter how sweet our memories seem. So here's to brighter days ahead and the change of heart that warms like the change of seasons.I enjoyed you words as always. F.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

ah, a little Richard III----thrown in for good measure...
i appreciate your insights and allusions to Shakespeare and Steinbeck..i walked so many pastures as a kid in Vermont...lots of manure on both sides of the fence.
thank you, Fabian.