Finality of youth

in Autumn struggles

as brawling leaves

brown to fall

certain of seasons end.

Universe loop indivisible

surety in fate all things.

 

Of brevity, in reflection

no shortcuts would we take,

changes make, save the

lengthening of years,

days longer make.

Sweet my child

soon to pass.

Bond unbroken, yet change,

a sense, too quick, too early

these feelings of loss.

 

Wordless, carried on breast

so dependent only to you

given sole purpose in seeming

this life all of me.

What weight these two hearts

one now older finds strength

to part and end

This Mother’s Autumn