There may be
some grief
calling me
back to my
strange history.

Some inner aching
pulling the strings
of old memories.

With leaves that leave
a cold fall tree,
I see spring colors
transitioning
to summer shades,
then autumnal tints,
till they crumble
under my humble
feet, fading before
the coming winter wars.

Like sweet pets
who have passed,
like the few fallen
life companions,
and family members
who fell to embers
then to the smoking ash
of time’s eternal flame.

I am pulled back there
for just a second,
take stock and own
all those precious moments
I have known
recalling all that I can
with a nostalgic appreciation.

Then let it go,
if I am able to,
and move on.