IN THE APPROACHING DARK OF AUTUMN
In the approaching dark of autumn
I hear her song come lilting in to me
On these breezes that slow, then cease.
I sing my own songs and they go out
And float along other breezes until
They come gently into her own sad room.
In the approaching dark of autumn
Her songs reach my ears and mine hers.
Never will we meet, our songs now lying flat
On our own floors.
John Tustin: fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry
Bindweed Magazine 