Tomorrow Is October For Me Too

I put you in a sacred cup. Like a child, I whine, And cry, For you. Not old enough to drink: To see into the eyes of a woman, Grown, with pain. What she tells me I cannot understand. But I can understand well enough. I am as young in pain as the child They will not take to drink; A pain as fresh, as the dead leaves each year, After a glorious summer seen from the inside out. Yes, from inside. Because, I am the summer, The sea; The autumn, and its goblin's veil; I am winter's cozy nook; And springtime's drip Of Saviour's blood. I am the child that lies within— That even memories can't save From the crooked spine Of your blindness' path. And you won't come to play with me.