Where I was going that long night so far removed from me now
Emerging from the alley in the semi-darkness, she looked like a lost waif
We stood along the path, daring not approach the Deity
Awareness is a myth; understanding is only to be found in the memories of each muscle
Toward dusk that day she reached and touched her cherished distant star
Curled tight like a wounded bird, the old woman attempted to speak her last words
I am a fool, plain and simple–suppose it can be said of us all sooner or later
Trying so desperately to obey the rules of some force never felt this strong
He looks askance at the gathered tribe of men and turns on his heel
Would it be preferable if we merely suggested what we saw in our sleep?
I fear the sounds I most despise will be played
For all eternity or even beyond that fading moment
She was there once in the mirrored reflection of my hidden eye
I reached for her and found
The leaves golden and red; the world dying in early frost
Copyright 2016 by Andrew Bradford. All rights belong to the author and material may not be copied without the author’s express permission.