The gold of autumn
Is in the greyness of your hair,
It is in our lost dreams,
It is in the wisps of inspiration
That come and go
But visit me less often.

The gold of autumn
Is in my blurred vision
And in my slurred speech,
It is in my anger
That I feel when I can’t find my things
Or forget where I was going.

The gold of autumn
Is a celebration of decay.
Our world decays
And we dissolve with it.
We only hope that we still have the time
To ask for forgiveness.
We hope that it is not too late
To make amends with the world around us
As it gradually escapes our senses
And evades our understanding more and more.

The gold of autumn is in your smile,
Which is as lively as ever,
Although I can’t see it now,
Except only on a photograph,
Worn and yellow,
With torn rough edges.

The gold of autumn is in my dreams,
When we were young and careless,
When the days were endless
And our feelings were bright and new.

You are no longer here,
But my feelings for you are as sharp as ever.
This too shall pass,
And we will meet again
Beneath the cosmic veil.