Poem: Our Autumn Days
Autumn.
A moment of calm
Between the busy fun of the boiling sun
And the dark frozen wintry nights.
It is peaceful, mild, temperate.
A time for baked apple pie & cinnamon sticks,
Blankets & bonfires, fireworks & conkers,
Cuddles to keep warm,
And kisses for comfort.
We took misty walks in our local park.
Wearing our charity shop jumpers in crazy colours,
But, without an umbrella.
And so, the rain, when it began to pour
Dripped down the backs of our necks,
Soaking through our hair, & our clothes, & our souls.
Holding hands, we’d splash through the puddles,
Drenching our socks,
Yet cleaning our boots…
Not a care in the world…
Drying off in a cosy café,
You’d order a black coffee,
And I, a peppermint tea.
We’d share a cake-
Sometimes a bakewell tart or a chocolate brownie-
And speak of all the sweet things
We’d never dare to say to anyone else,
Watching as the rain rolled down the windows,
Keeping us inside,
Keeping us together,
At least for now…
… or should I say… then.
Our trek home was wonderfully slow.
We’d stretch it out as long as could be,
Just happy to be in each other’s company,
Knowing that once we’d reach the gate
That then we’d have to separate.
Part ways, ‘til we’d find another day,
Perfect for us to sneak away
Into another dream.
Alas, it was not meant to be.
We couldn’t bear to hide forever,
Nor could we face coming clean.
It might have felt as though our hearts were tied together,
But still, we chose to snip those strings.
Turning away from our own desires,
Relinquishing our supposed ‘happily ever after’.
Sorrow-filled, sore, & aching,
We let each other go.
Now,
Several years later,
I remember our autumn days well.
I find myself, again, at the turn of the seasons.
Watching the leaves fade from green to a coppery brown,
Ready to don my woolly scarf & coat,
And stow myself away in libraries, bookshops, & cosy cafés.
It is you who is at the forefront of my mind.
Perhaps in this lifetime
We were not meant to be.
Yet I know we’ll find each other again.
Maybe with different faces & different friends.
Don’t worry darling,
Our chance will come.
By Sylvia Villa (2024)
