— Inspired by Edna St. Vincent Millay's sonnet "I know I am but summer to your heart"
I shall be the mere brilliance of autumn
swirling within your eyes,
leaves drifting on more fragile winds
than we may endure with grace.
Humility be mine own,
as I hold out a trembling hand for you to grasp;
we will find succor from this gentle harvest.
Winter will shield us from its frigid breath
as we burrow beneath blankets we have woven
from tears once shed in futility
and echoes of remembered laughter gone before.
There will be comforting silences to soothe
the noises of a busy world; we shall lay upon them,
our spirits seeping into each other
to keep us dry within the flood,
to sustain us through a bitter drought.
Should one of us go too soon ahead, toward that final home,
reminiscences will retain their finery and fervor;
there will be no sorrow to enrapture our shuddering hearts.
Plums shall again ripen beneath warm breath
as snow flies under the wooden sill where once we stood,
together, alone in our solitude,
yet, never in dismay.