Late October

                                                                                              Windy morning Rustling leaves You reach for my hand and place it Inside the warmth of your glove For a moment I feel you hesitate And I, Suddenly afraid, Remember that you Do not belong to me You lean over to whisper The warmth of your breath Tickles, trickles, Down the length Of my…Read more »

Free

On that Fateful morning I sat on a wooden  bench Beneath a fading tree And whispered your name To the open sky Releasing you I watched As you spiraled Swirled High and free Disappearing into the November wind © MJ Donnery