I walk a fine line

With a clock enshrined

Between damp palms intertwined.

 

The autumn crisp, 

Prayers on lips, 

On marooned beds, I climb uphill.

 

But orphaned leaves of the fall

And people who crawl

Seldom stand tall.

 

And so, the sun's wary glint 

Smokes my brittle shins.

My knees give in.

 

Deepening sighs, 

Rust-riddled signs, 

The woods lead with sewn-shut eyes.

 

A moment's strength,

A fool's errand, 

Every beginning meets its end.

 

My future is my square one.

I'm back where I was,

Time's reversed.

 

Age's crumbling my shoulders,

Sysiphus' boulder.

I'm getting older.

 

Despite the arrhythmic infinite loop,

I know I'll meet her soon.

The woman - me - atop vermillion pools,

 

Inhaling my labored huffs of breath,

As they comingle with the fragrant foliage.

I smile a toothy smile as she reaps the bushel of fruits I once planted.