There in season,

Sky as blue as hope,

Ripened leaves red before falling,

One anteroom of darkness,

another of light,

I dilemma’d in dreams between

But saw her beauty on the other side


for the girl whose eyes were sad, glistening lakes

You were quiet but visibly upset;

our time was too short.

There was a stirring in the autumn air.

At first it appeared mere shades of green,

but there were other distinct colours,

explosions of browns, reds, blues, of yellows.

Then, if only could I, with my too human heart, extract from this a general rule

– Let all dying be this beautiful.