The veiny trees rust
In their cold, autumnal beds,
And everywhere their
Little children chase
Each other on the breath
Of winter.
Frost bites the grass and leaves
A tender blanket of cold indifference.
Here, now, there is no time for time.
Here, now, there is only what is
Right
And what is
Wrong.
There is a mournful goodbye
And a sweet hello.
A letting go and an
Acceptance.
An acceptance that love fades,
But happiness and memories
Endure.