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Autumn leaves that collect weight in the ashes of Summer |
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Are cracked and broken by my intruding step |
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Foreign thoughts that invade my questioning |
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Of death's cold cold waiting |
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No bait will deter the ancient stalker |
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Whose colour I'm not sure of |
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Who's walked between this park |
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And with icy fingers prepared this morbid corridor of bracken |
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To take my steps closer there all the time |
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Then your fingers - hard and comforting |
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Write softly through my hair |
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All that we're afraid of in each other |
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All that may die between us without death to take the blame |
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To play games so unprepared |
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To dance round fires unguarded |
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Tears become blood of sorrow |
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And my pulse keeps time so badly with the tune you play to me |
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My steps down streets that remain unchanged but change so many |
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Will just vanish like yesterday |
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Don't think dark thoughts you tell me |
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Yet all our fate waits prepared in darkness |
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And my hand will fumble for the door |
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Whose handle is too high for me |
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Whose wood is from those mighty trees |
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The trees that lay down their leaves so recklessly |
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My light remains flickering in Autumn |
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And musky smoke from blazing bonfires |
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Will rise like incense from the funeral pyre |
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In preparation |
