Autumnal Fade.

An early evening in October.
Not hot.                  Not cold.
My body aches for another Spring.


Trees, dappled like dried seaweed,
stretch gnarled branches against the
                                                   sky
to fend off the shades of approaching
                                               winter.


I stand on the platform watching the
                                              crowds
huddled in blacks and greys against
                                             the chill
that they imagine the promise of
                                             showers
will whet the wind on the cutler`s stone.

These crowds, tight lipped as they wait
                                           for trains,
last month were dressed in brighter colours.


And that woman, who is the centre of my life,
her absence cuts deep             as I stand alone,
ticket in hand, watching the signs
of the slow defeat of the life we have known.



Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
October 12th. - 14th. - 16th. 2016.