that silly decision

10/15/05

a year later and the imminent chill of the dead days
is upon us again much like the call of our departed
whispers if only they could speak –
hollow
dry and
empty
like the loomingnegativespace around the corner
the one born from expiration as the leaves stop whispering
and fall to the earth
before the snow follows suit and does the same,
copycat blanket of icy white not wholesome like the gold
of these final autumn days
and o! how I wish I could grasp the hands of my clock
and softly push back the days to April
but time won’t allow such an adjustment
so I’m sentenced to this different beauty before me
should I choose to see it
or a bleak empty waste
if I give in again