Autumn's Surcease
I gave you hurtings
so that you might feel
Winter in your Soul.
I sometimes placed upon your heart
virgin olive oil
to succor it.
I piled high
in your eyes
Love and its Laments
as your cool wind
blew
down the Solstice.
I carried your
leaden comments
to the cemetery
where I buried them
with the other
dead things
and
I blew you
my last
Summer Kiss
for the luck
I know
you'd need.
Your last leaf
fell
from your waterless tree
revealing that
Summer Kisses
have no truck
or need
for rusty
dead leaves
carpeting
a Winter Soul;
twice dead
now skipping even
Autumn's
surcease
before your Winter blows.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Added by Poetry Lover
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