blush red
at the indifference
of their departing lord
But the cold
of his prolonged absence
turns them brittle, brown
and wilted
Until breaking
under burdens
of love's seeming abandonment
they fall
borne lightly to the ground
as living tears
on death's feeble breeze
Wrapped up tight against the cold
my breath but
an Autumn fog
I walk
their path of broken hearts.
