Six years ago, when my marriage was dying, I turned to writing to try and purge the anger and the bitterness from me. I am having a harder time now. Maybe more of me had died off and there is less now to draw from? This poem was written just days before my separation. I was driving back from a week long class in Richmond. It was late October. I had the windows down and sunroof open in my truck. Sunlight had warmed and flooded my universe. My soul was happy. It was a torrent of leaves quite literally. So much so that they were practically blowing into the truck.
Traveling in Fall
It was a warm Indian summer day,
As I traveled along my lonely way,
The many splendorous autumn leaves,
Were spilling from their parent trees.
Earlier and Earlier sinks the afternoon sun,
Shadows lengthen one by one,
And the Eternal Ethereal Bell,
Of the changing seasons knells.
As I watched this, I began to think,
What have I done this day, this week,
For surely I can not go back again,
For surely one day, this all will end.
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