Walking Away


we will be over
like the autumn
and I will
watch you depart
like a sandhill crane
making its way
toward a more
reliable warmth.
The winter
will pass quietly
and slowly
between us
and we’ll have no
spring thaw
to look forward to—
no digging up the earth
to plant a love
that might have been
as perennial
and perfect as those
Bleeding Hearts,
hollow inside—
which is how I feel
this season
knowing our timing
was wrong
and knowing I must try
to harvest a few more
of your smiles
before I settle in
to watch you
walk away.




Photo by Deanna Morae 

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