Long searing days yield to the dark.
Shadows angle deeper in dwindling sunlight.
Summer's green grass has withered
to golden Fall tinder.
The fruit on apple branches
has transformed to dried yellow orbs.
Wheat fields have been shorn clean,
potato plots plowed under.
And still you have not stepped
from my dreams to my arms.
The miles between us remain.
We have failed to close this chasm.
I have only imagined kissing
your sensitive, flushed skin.
I can not turn to you in the lonely
darkness to hear your peaceful breath.
Your clothes do not hang next to mine
in the half-vacant closet.
Do not let my hopes dissolve in the harsh Winter wind.
I have no desire to choke upon the ashes of our love.