Friday, August 8, 2014

November Leaf


That maple leaf had all the colours I saw in you,

a pronouncement hung on a web of veins.

I found it, a star in the debris, at the river’s edge;

somehow it seemed right.


The greatest beauty is the fragile beauty;

it reminded me of you,

with the blue barely clinging to your irises,

your smiles precarious as November leaves.

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