Poetry

Silently She Speaks

As her breeze swivels
the last few leaves
of the sweet gum tree
ticklishly
I’m certain it
means something

Something deep

A secret something
Autumn is keeping from me
for her own good reasons
I imagine
She knows
I am fickle
and may betray
sensitive particulars
while under the influence
of the moon and red wine
Still I pine
to know but
I can only
feel her breath
Her lips
remain closed

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