Where
green has a maid,
where small, speckled,
hand-me-down things
fly with color
through childhood,
lies Red to be
watched, as leaves are.
you see the changes,
Red, where youth was
worn like brown sacks,
rags of the poor
just yesterday
it was, i think,
the same to me
as today, as
this autumn sky,
clouds thickening,
my youth, i mean
here