Autumn Magic

grey fall days make me want to go east,

she told me.

go east to where? I asked her.

I’ll only know when I get there.


the wind caught her hair as she strode before me,

a red flash parting the sea of clouds.

she said grey was her favourite colour;

I struggled to keep up with the wind.


at night she lit candles and looked out eastern windows

as a cold rain started to fall.

over tea she told me of ghosts that she’d met,

of the magic that comes only in autumn.


(I didn’t believe her.)


I lost her, one bright summer.

now I wait, with candles and tea in fine china,

for the wind and the first drops of cold rain.

on this grey day, I look east and await the ghost of her magic.

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