Autumn Rain

Poetry about loss.

Autumn Rain

I sat on the porch
in the mild sun of early Spring
when I got the news-
how could it be
when your laughter
was still echoing
in your bedroom,
the scent of you still
warm in the tangled bedclothes?
In one sentence the seasons passed
from hope to the falling of autumn rain;
it seems it was yesterday
you lay like a blossom
on my bosom, fragile and perfect,
yet tomorrow
I must lay you in the earth,
it's frozen breath waiting...

© Charmaine Fourie (Charri)