Gillian

As I stand gazing out my window I recall,
your Father telling me you won't be with us long.
The trees were beautiful, their leaves the many colours of Fall, some lay already on the ground, I remember our song.

I watch, some twitching, half turning, over and around,
like reluctant dancers, unwilling, unready, eerily silent,
through the glass there is no sound.

First one then another are swept up and along,
as though trying to resist the will of the wind, as they had for so long.
Safely attached to their Mother tree,
waving and rustling almost mockingly.

like the leaves you lost your tenuous hold,
now your broken body's free!
"The summer sun is fading as the year grows old",
I know what was to be our story will left untold.

Unlike the once budding, now fallen leaves, never to unfold,
never to see the colours of Autumn, it's shades of ochre,
red, orange, yellow, amber and gold.
Part way through our story ends I'll never stop remembering,
all the times we shared, we were best friends.

So many good and happy things,
all our dreams, our hopes, our fears.
In my head, Justin Hayward still sings,
of those fallen leaves, lying undisturbed,
bye my love of twenty two years.