Autumn's Final Day

Autumn's Final Day

We walked through autumn's final day
though I was unaware —
too dazzled by fall's stunning hues
to sense I should beware.

So much could not be seen beyond
the foliage I beheld,
and wrapped in what I thought was love,
so much could not be felt.

In growing shadows, darkness lurked —
its chill was in the air.
An evil huddled unobserved —
'twas winter hiding there.

From 'neath the pumpkin's dying vine
like phantoms round our feet,
a sudden, restless wind arose
and up our backs it leaped.

The aspens, with their startled leaves,
were quivering with fright.
They bent and rose as skeletons
with wounded souls in flight.

Then, black as eyes of old scarecrows,
the storm unleashed my fear;
for winter's breath snaked round my neck
and hissed, "The end is near!"

I reached out to my love, alarmed,
but had to stop and stare.
Deep in his eyes a darkness lurked,
I saw no love was there.

He stripped my heart and left me bare —
a trembling skeleton —
and midst that storm I realized
that winter had begun.

On autumn's final day, I watched
a scarecrow walk away,
and by his side there flew the ghosts
of fall — and love — betrayed.

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