It is the wind talking
Back and forth
I have not said a word
It is the seer of all torn
Leaves and holds my face
Up toward black branches
To see what I must see
Musty colors amidst rose red
I hear two voices murmur
And laugh from the nearby barn
For we held hands all our lives
And in the circle meant never
To let go until the last ash of us all
Refused to glow
Husband enters with my friend
The pot whistles as if a train
Will derail
Her red hair held up by butterfly
Pins is loosened
I take their cold hands
And the wind roars
I do not want to hear any more
