Strange.
I knew I would miss him but
Thought you would fade quickly into the background
As you did when you were part of my life and
I took you for granted.
The autumn though reminds me of you,
The blaze of your hair and the vulnerable resilience
Of the trees clinging to the
Leaves yearning for the ground.
I yearn for the sound
of his voice, but
It's your sad, bewildered face I see,
Haunting me,
Taunting me,
I cannot recover.
I miss our walks,
I miss our talks,
I miss the soft Irish lilt of your voice
Your no-nonsense welcome,
And the way you love him,
That we still share.