(1) Autumn Travails, Original Version (2) A Fragment.

                     1.

          Autumn Travails. Original Version.


Perhaps we are already in mourning.

The passengers all appear to be wearing black.

We huddle inside this commuter train,
Jolted unceremoniously towards London
Like a jumble of nondescript freight.

As has often been the case in my life
I appear to be the odd one out.
I am dressed in grey.
Black is too formal for me.

October will begin tomorrow.
The golden month with the cruel edge,
A knife in the belly of the old year
Slowly draining the last warm dregs of vibrant colour.

Even now the sun grows mellow, indistinct;
Soon it will vanish completely,
Submerged under a bruise of Autumn clouds
Mauling the pastel skies.

The sun will remain dead to us.

The sun will remain dead to us.
Dead until the raw winds of March
Worry the gaunt trees
Out of their gnarled sleep;

Worry the dead colours back into life.

The sun will remain dead to us.
Dead until the dark bruise disperses
And warm blood pulses through the healed veins,
Pumped by a vigorous heart.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
September 28th. - 29th. 2013.
February 11th. 2014.
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                    2.

            A Fragment.


The fragility of moonlight frosting your face
Reminds me of swans drifting through mist
Upon still waters


Trevor John Karsavin Potter
May 10th. 1984. - September 29th. 2013.