Love in Middle Age

Wake, love, this autumn is a
very spring, and falling leaves
have made for us a feather bed.
Rest your tousled head
upon these ragged clouds,
let rain come wash and blur
the sharpness of our summer colours.
My hands will smooth the wrinkles
on your parchment skin
written with the story of our
travelled years, and we will
comfort one another, get up,
share breakfast for another day,
and walk the leafless woods
with dancing gold behind us every step.