Leaves of gold and yellow,
An evening sky of red;
A whisper of silver,
A renegade cloud overhead;
Smell of rain or showers linger
As a squirrel eats his dinner;
Giggles of playing youngsters
Almost loud enough to quash my dread.
Today alone,
Yesterday together;
A love so strong,
Now gone dead.
© 1998 Steven Barto