My Mind’s Eye in Autumn

Mists at the outer edges of my memory.
Flailing through a threadbare carpet of tears
seeking a lost regiment of friends and family.

Gathered together in November remembrance.
They are always there – conscious of my distress
or welcome signs of joy and happiness.

Showering me with poppy-red petals of hope and love.

I wait for answers from this gang
and view signs and portents greedily.
We are never apart in our apartness.

And I see their faces and hear their
voices as if from just across the hall.
We are symbiotic in each other’s company.

A rare manuscript of belonging on the right page.

I feel melancholic as befits the season
and rain penetrates my psyche with its
cold clingy and viscous quality.

I long for the sun to warm me.
I long to see familiar faces,
with their bright countenances.

Old souls colliding with the stars in their eyes.