End of Summer's Reverie
As the wind gushes through the pane,
she jots down crystal-clear memoirs
from a flawless hand, still radiant;
while tendrils of a past causes
flushed eyes to melt in the glass of evening.
Then pausing between emblazoned lines,
a web of sagas transports her musings
in a village where life details the ache
and glory of unwanted farewell;
the summer air turning blooms into molds
as new autumn's lungs exhale without crisp sounds.
Quietly, Aunt Jenny folds the sepia-book
to gaze at the beauty of twilight,
where cloudburst fades like distant remains...
then, washing the pale mist of yester-years,
she breathes in solace: a woman freed
by putting a name to her own unfurled dream,
ready for rain’s music of tamed sleep
when a nightingale drifts from a branch,
quiet, quiet as feathered reverie.
(c)
Must Be Read Contest
For Silent One
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