In the grey of your hair, autumn’s gold softly gleams,
Woven through faded dreams, it quietly streams.
Inspiration once danced, now visits me slow,
Like leaves that drift downward in the dim evening glow.
Autumn’s gold dims my sight, slurs the words that I speak,
Sparks my anger in moments my patience wears weak—
When keys vanish silent, or paths I once knew
Slip away like the mist in the morning’s soft dew.
Autumn’s gold celebrates decay’s withering art,
As our world gently crumbles, our senses depart.
We pray there’s still time to whisper “forgive,”
To mend what we’ve broken, to learn how to live
While shadows grow distant, and meaning retreats,
Slipping through trembling hands like sand through the sheets.
Yet autumn’s gold lingers in your smile ever bright,
Alive as the sunrise, though hidden from sight.
I trace it in photographs, yellowed and torn,
Edges frayed like the years since the day you were born.
In dreams, autumn’s gold paints us young, wild, and free,
Endless days full of wonder, careless laughter and glee.
You’re gone from this earth, yet my love cuts as deep,
Sharp as I saw you the first time, I have no tears to weep.
This season will fade, as all seasons must do,
Let the star-fall tonight reunite me and you.