we
met in that time of the year
when trees sleep and flowers die
found our fire amidst
laughing aspens, whispering pines
falling leaves of red and gold
autumn's light fading
sun's angle dropping
too low for nourishment
we lost our rhythm
drifted apart
Today in the Pub, De has us concentrating on the word "Pine" or a derivative! Forty-four words ~ The Quadrille!
Beautiful images of a shrinking love, with the nature metaphors to match. Well done.
ReplyDeleteDearest Helen,
ReplyDeleteA poem with lots of depth...
Hugs,
Mariette
How sad the ending though Helen. Love the autumn's fire and colors.
ReplyDeleteVery well written, Helen. I love the way you made the transition from falling in love to falling out of love!
ReplyDeleteFall always makes me think of loss. This poem captures that feeling so well.
ReplyDeleteFall is a time for change, the slowing and cooling of Nature's way.
ReplyDelete..
I'm changing my street name to Pine Lake Drive.
DeleteThanks, Helen
..
You surprised me with that ending. You’ve described the season beautifully and the constant change of them.❤️
ReplyDeleteThose seasonal references really illustrate the way love flares and fizzles. A beautiful quadrille.
ReplyDeleteToo late for a meeting that should have happened in spring maybe
ReplyDeleteI love the way your quadrille dwindles to the final ‘drifted apart’, Helen, and the lovely lines:
ReplyDelete‘found our fire amidst
laughing aspens, whispering pines’
and the use of colour and ‘autumn's light fading’ sets the scene beautifully.
Oh, I loved those first two lines... they had me glued to the screen. A beautifully sad poem, so full of life and, unfortunately, the death of a relationship. Wonderfully crafted.
ReplyDeleteLove has its seasons too.
ReplyDeletevery touching and poignant, Helen
ReplyDeletemuch love,
David
SkepticsKaddish.com
"that time of the year
ReplyDeletewhen trees sleep and flowers die" - this is an absolutely perfect description and so fitting for the rest of the piece
Sometimes the setting is integral to the emotion.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful metaphor, Helen. All beauty eventually fades.
ReplyDelete