from brain twigs and branches,
hover in autumnal air
drift onto a carpet of thoughts
redolent with life.
Falling one by one.
A word is forgotten. A place. A name.
A friend, gone these many years.
Sometimes a capricious breeze
frees a shower of golden reminiscences –
Oft read books. Career accomplishments.
of children and grandchildren
drift onto a carpet of memories.
Places and pictures. Faces. Smiles.
crumble to leaf mold
Dust of a lifetime. Forgotten realities.
Fifty years gone in a sigh
blurred by November mists.
Specks in a ray of light
touch the tattered carpet
moldering to a realm apart from existence.
No past. No present.
No life as it was.
The branches are bare.
lifted one last time