Autumn.
Old folk remember their schooldays,
Chasing a ball in the street,
Kicking their shoes through the leaves.
Like bulbs pressed down into leaf mould
It was time to mature and flourish,
A chill sun burnishing cheek bones,
A cold wind blurring the view.
Cool but savvy, Spring sloped in when the light changed,
Bringing warmth to our streets, now swept clean,
Not by brooms, but by snow-melt and showers
Transforming pavements into streams,
Sometimes as deep as our ankles;
Sometimes barely damping our heels.
Autumn.
Old folk remember their schooldays
With a symbolic shrug of the shoulders;
Sometimes with nostalgic lies. -
Next February Snowdrops will tear through the frost lace,
But before then a whole world dies.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
September 26th.- 27th. - 28th. 2022.
October 6th. 2022.
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