But a Poet in Autumn
Cleave*
In the faintest of lights, faint as our hope has become,
The words rise and fall like a tiny bird’s heaving chest,
The way the leaves return to the earth, truth falls on the verse
During the most magical of seasons, this glorified
— — — — — — — — — — -Autumn. — — — — — — — — — — — -
Reflected on the sea, as this majestic sky is golden,
the letters spread on the ocean, and this poem reforms
Words stand anew, almost alive, breathing
quiet and soft like the tiny bird that now flies free
it’s almost as if they, alone, these words I pen,
have decided to rewrite our stories, combine our lives to one,
to one where our futures are merged, one I am but you, they wrote,
One that I am but a poet, and you, the reason I scribble my words,
on the most memorable of seasons, on the season you and I belong,
— — — — — — — — — —-Autumn. — — — — — — — — — — — -
*Cleave:
A split poem with the left side as one distinct poem, the right side as one distinct poem, and the whole as one poem.
