Clovers in the cold autumn air -
Alive for now and unaware
Of winter on its way.
No four-leaved luck
Can keep the muck
Of rainy days at bay.
.
I envy them, their mindless bloom,
The way they know not of their doom,
Of snow beneath which they'll rest.
For I know my approaching frost,
The summer bliss came with a cost,
And soon the crows will lose their nest.
.
It smothers me - the thought
That all efforts were for naught,
And I remain in this alone.
This cursed knowledge in my chest,
Claws at my soul without rest;
Poisoned veins, flesh, and bone.
.
The evening wind gives me chills,
Yet I'm impassive as these hills -
The physical can't hurt me now.
For my heartache is much stronger,
Its freezing cold lasts far longer
Than any weather knows how.
.
I care to deeply - that's my cross -
Then pay dearly for each loss;
My foolish heart cannot quit.
I can only hope to leave a mark
In your memory a tiny spark
Of the fire we once lit.
.