The harsh winds
Of late October
Howl as they tear across his face
Like sandpaper
The open front
Of the glass bus stop
Walls frame his view like a diorama
But face straight into the gusts
Of unrelenting autumn air
The screech and squall
Of downtown rush hour traffic
Is quickly overcome
By the abrasive crunching sound of deadened leaves
Crumbling to brownish dust
Beneath his feet and tires
So he sits in silence
Waiting
Breathing slowly
As the repugnant subway steam
From down below
Billows up from the sewer grates
To fill his nose
And consume the crisp aromas of the fall
This was your last fall with him
If it ever were at all
You said you're scared of all the colors and the winds
Afraid their whispers may remind you still of him
This was your last fall with him
If it ever were at all
You said you're scared of all the colors and the winds
Afraid their whispers may remind you still of him
The setting sun
Casts a browning yellow shadow over everything
Covering the world in sepia tones
Even fallen leaves
Once glowing with
An immediate transcendence
Have turned to dusty grays and lost all warmth
They've lost all life
He lost his life