Another crisp Autumn morning.

I wake before dawn, 

hoping I won't think of you, 

but I do. I always do. 

Though you are not with me, 

I feel you, in the brisk breeze,

spreading golden leaves,

on sacred ground.
 

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Love once bloomed 
like a fragrant flower
in eternal spring.

Through years of 
torrential summer tears, 
then droughts,

the scent faded.

All that seemingly remains
are scorched petals that drop 
like dead leaves in fall.

But, far beneath 
the frozen surface, 
intertwined roots run deep...

Making our twisted love 
hardy, to weather the 
toughest seasons.
 
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