Soft memories in sepia

Bygone October afternoon

The burnished oak leaves sway

as Autumn breathes across their boughs

That puff of air precedes first kiss

and pelts with acorns

We remember only these

the sun dappled spaces

that drift across time

We were spared the horrors

of what happened in other rooms

Not our memory to carry

Not our poison to drink

We were left an empty cup


2 thoughts on “Promise

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