Through the Mists

image of a carousel, free use from Pixabay

1.

Autumn trees weave memories
in amber and gold.
The mild November
transports me back
to when we swept the fair
hand in hand
and squawking sparrows
scattered
at our careless May Day joy
that dared to make its presence
in our hearts.

2.

Is this why sometimes
on the on the weekend ride
tears should cloud my eyes
now you are gone
in an adieu
where we never said goodbye?
What a shame that
the magpies won,
stealing our Carnival
with its cotton candy world
and sun Carousel
that we shared.

© Anne Gaelan Dilley 2023