Last Train South

Two robins packed for the last train south.

Trees now but skeletons of summer splendor.

The gypsy mystic was long gone from city streets.

Once alive parks and playgrounds empty of laughter.


How has our time together vanished so quickly.

Our halcyon banter evaporated like fog in the sun.

Joyful excursions through mountain flowers now dead.

We swam naked in a cold mountain river now frozen.


Bear sleeps hungry in a hidden musty forest cave.

Red Tail sails in the sun looking for a last meal.   

My kitchen sink overflows with last week’s dishes.

Outside my window a lone flower longs to bloom again.

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