I feel your loss more at this time
with the gathering of the dead.
I wonder if you are at the doorway
waiting to move on, still.
I remember how you loved this season
with its abundance of colour/ioldaite.
The last traces of our own flowering
as we head for oblivion.
Today I watched the final venting
of autumn leaves draining colour
from my world. The wind raged
with a ferocity that matched your own
as you fought to live and then, to die.