Autumn crept up on us slowly
We felt the lingering touch of Summer start to fade
And the heat that had seeped into our skin
Was beginning to dissipate

I watched the leaves go from brilliant green
To deep oranges and reds
They were beautiful despite the fact that they were dying
It broke my heart to watch the trees betray them

When the last leaf fell, you were already gone

Summer has returned to me, this time I am aware that it is fleeting.

In Whitehall stands a monument,
A column wrought in stone.
Empty as that mother’s heart
whose sons did not come home.
It bears the dates of two world wars,
And three carved words I read.
A politician’s shibboleth
About “the Glorious Dead”
Standing in November’s rain,
No glory came to mind.
Perhaps that word held meaning
in another place and time.
They have passed from living memory
those soldier boys of thine.
Now bronze reliefs and marble wreaths
Recall their deaths to mind.

The world was at her feet the day
she knelt upon its promised ground

expectant, waiting for the meek's
inheritance to be passed round,

with patience and the dead she waited
wondering as years grew old

if her lifetime had been wasted
on the stories she'd been told.