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  • Writer's pictureBruce Siebold

Passing Seasons

I had hoped you would stay with me much longer. But in the morning light, this passing season was gone.The dahlia's heads hung low, the mums shivered in the snow and I knew you had silently departed in the night. Now stinging wind and darkness will cover the land. I pull my jacket across my chest and bury my hands deep within my pockets and wonder. Why did you leave without saying goodbye? Did I just assume you would be with me tomorrow? I trudge back to the warmth of my home, wrapping my arms around my bride and softly whisper into her ear... I love you.

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