My words like migrating birds will fly away to warmer places
in the Autumn, when the leaves take the faded colour of your eyes.
A hundred more splendid sunsets will capture the core of my body’s warmth
in the Autumn, when the skies take on the colours of burning souls in love.
How many hours will you keep away from me,
flinging like a feather in the air between my timid breaths?
When will you rest in form, the way a soft smile touches my lips and shines in my eyes?
I sense the strange wind that brings you my way
in the Autumn, when fruitless hope is scattered and swayed adrift my compass,
you bring it back – hope; that thing with feathers – to nest in my heart.