My Autumn


You are my Autumn of life,

the ambers and golds of contentment;

that elegant, wistful time,

divorced of Summer's frenzy,

that lured my youthful dreams.


Perhaps past days outnumber

those that stretch ahead,

yet our zeal at what may be

eclipses memories.

Each tomorrow remains for us

a butterfly hovering.


I dread not Winter's thrust for we shall embrace against it,

knowing the Spring that awakens

will find our souls as one,

as a butterfly hovering,

awaiting Autumn.