Autumn Spiral [06-20-01]

I sing a melody for you;
a song without rhyme or rhythm or reason.
Echoed through many voices,
its chords are softened now with only mine.

Upon a dying wooden throne of branches,
crystal orbs mirrored your image,
jaded with necropolis leaves below.

I watched you for awhile,
silent reverie above a storm
of fallen companions, crunched beneath boots.
Maybe for a moment I could catch the glare
of sunspots shouting off your eyes...

And for that fragile piece of borrowed time
I cascaded freely from a stolen throne
with kindred leaves below.
Winter brushed a thinning finger
over the errant rhythm of a tender muscle.

Crunch. Crunch. Upside down and sideways,
I watched you from the graveyard
of my dead emotions, deadened veiny ancestors,
and dead bones softening to carry
flecks of ice,
walking away.