Autumn

Eileen Earnshaw

We collected herbs,
sun hallowed forget-me-not,
margaritas, campanulas ringing autumn,
wild as wind or young love, fresh and fleeting.

Winter whispered of her coming.
Unleashed cold tigers in the undergrowth.
We hurried home, the hard edged wood
left in the moon behind us.

We tied our memories high to dry
Rosemary, Basil, Lavender.
A scent of summer warmth and sun
the lost love taste of you and I.

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