Autumn�s New Prince

Autumn’s New Prince

 

The final time I spent youth’s daydreams

to raise Camelot back from the dust, the shadows,

the scattered stones cast by the castle’s

fallen walls—my princess, Autumn’s auburn

buds burnished in Fall’s sun were gathered

nervously between my forefinger and thumb.

Her Locks were so easily stolen:

the spent rose petals spread between

the tussled linens of grass,

discarded the way of Fall’s last affair

 

Now, Autumn lets another boy

run his hands through her ivy

tangled trunk and favors his wrist:

a necklace of wound jade leaves from her neck.

With a broken branch of Excalibur’s length,

he is tapped each shoulder

and rewarded a southwester’s blown petals;

loosed by Autumn’s breath against

her rose-threaded bower, his archway

to gardens of Avalon.