Fall

Everything ended last fall.  She remembered staring up at the mountains as it did. Their heads were bare, the snowy caps that normally tempered their appearance melted away in the afternoon sun. The early fall mist hid their torsos from the city, giving them a disembodied appearance. The periodic blinks from the lonely communications tower atop the tallest range stood out in a lacklustre red.

His limpid green eyes were always a mystery to her. Although she knew that the saying that a person’s feelings are reflected in their eyes to be a farce, she had always been good at reading people. Not so with him. They were always impassive, well, almost always. She had known them to transform into dark dilated orbs which convey more than words at times.

She watched as his mask slipped, as her words brought confusion and then hurt to his eyes. She wanted nothing more than to take him in her arms and kiss that look away. But she forced herself to stay stoic, balling her fists inside her jacket pockets. She forced herself not to look away, to let him see that she meant it this time.

Their goodbyes were little more than perfunctory. After a moment of weakness, the mask was back, more opaque than usual. As she walked away, she felt chilled to the bone. She doubted it had much to do with the weather. She turned back for a last look. He was staring at the river, hands in his pockets.

Sitting by my trees on a fall evening

Another fall evening passes,

While I sit and gaze through the trees

Holding a cup of my favourite tea,

Waiting for you as I always do.

I’d forgotten it’s a Friday,

The streets busy and rowdy

People calling to each other,

As they walk by on their ways.

These sounds, these smells,

The breeze that kisses my hair

Takes me back to the day

When you and I first met.

The colours of the day,

So vivid and lively,

They paled to nothingness

Beside your glorious smile.

Many years thence

I’ve sat here in the shade

Chatting with the crickets

To watch you come through the trees.

The fireflies are out now,

Darting among the bushes,

Blinking, dancing, dazzling me

With their capricious lustre.

Something moved yonder

Startling me from my reverie

There you are, with that same smile

Treading the tree lined paths

To come home to me.

 

  • in response to this prompt, https://dversepoets.com/2018/09/27/mtb-writing-narrative-poetry/
  • Also, the title is a slight bastardisation of Robert Frost’s famous poem, STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING, one of my favourites. It is most known for its last four lines, but the other 12 lines are beautiful in their own right 🙂