I used to
look
For the
seasons turning
Green
leaves crumpling
Into brown
The air's
Cold kiss,
caressing
Goose
bumped skin
I used to
look
For the
turning
When days
Stayed
under
Star lit
quilts
Taking time
To wake
This year
The turning
Came to me
Those first
leaves
Scuffed against
me
Jolting me from
My
busy slumber
I realised,
Nostalgia tinged
With
sadness
I’d missed
the turning
But the
turning
Had not
Missed me
There is a
Turning, taking
Place in me
A wrinkling,
precursor
Of the crumpling
Though pretence
Still works
for now
There is a
turning
A craving
to cease
My busy
slumber
And waking,
To watch,
In silence
This turning
To feel
again
The still
breeze
Of eternity
Flowing through
Time’s transience
To feel it’s
kiss
Welcoming me
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