New days in autumn arrive in gray,
With golds and reds and auburns blending,
Mending is my spirit from the killer heat of summer,
Warming is my heart to the fire's glow.
"It's almost Winter", whispered she to me.
"Snuggle close and keep on hugging 'neath this blanket".
"We won't let the cold and gray to come between us".
(There's so much more than us when we let it so.).
"Is she there yet?", asks she,
"I see her walking slowly towards our door again."
That cane could use another tip,
Or, maybe, its her way of getting attention .
I could almost swear she's passed on, but I can't be sure.
Things just don't seem as clear as before.
She smiles just slightly as she passes by,
Turning just enough to nod hello.