The autumn wind blows,

whispering of things

to come.

 

Leaves, weary from clinging

to their branches,

hold on one last time.

 

They fall to the ground,

with a sigh of relief

that is carried

on the wind.

     Virginia Reid

Unchanged.

Days pass one by one,

marked on the calender,

as I wait.

As the time goes by,

and seasons change,

I hope you return to 

me,

the same as when you left

me.

Not older, your face

creased by the sun.

Your hair powdered

gray.

Your heart, unhardened

by a thousand slights, still

tender for me.

                 Virginia Reid

            Near Miss

He was so close, but she missed him.

For some reason, she didn’t see him.

He was too close.

She should have known he was there, felt

the warmth of his presence, so near.

But, before she knew it, he was gone.

                              Virginia Reid