Beneath the autumn sky, sunlight 

kissed your skin.

You wore red that day,

a shade that 

burned through the leaves. 

You came with the wind, 

leaves spiraling in your wake, 

painting the sky in fire. 

I see you, 

a flash of red– 

a pulse, an ember, 

burning like the horizon. 

You run,

chasing sunsets. 

I follow,

grateful to be in your shadow.

You pause,

worried 

you’re blocking my view, 

I whisper:

My love, my view is you.

Your voice,

a melody in my veins,

draws me closer to the 

red flame of your touch.

Short of breath 

but full of

hope 

I smile.

I reach, I 

touch—

it’s love.

—

Days burn to ash, 

fall comes again.

Leaves fall, 

crimson flames slipping beyond my grasp. 

I fall, too, 

tumbling through time,

through memories, 

to the day I first saw you.

You’re there,

I know it’s you–

a spark, 

a flash of red, 

love named but untouchable. 

I open my eyes

on autumn's golden bed.

The wind whispers 

of what I’ve lost:

the leaves, the red, 

your light fading 

into the horizon. 

I reach, I 

touch—

but the red slips away

 a memory gone 

or perhaps still waiting

 in the whisper of the wind.

The earth turns softly,

unfolding days without you.

The sky still holds its fire,

and my heart keeps its rhythm.

No longer in your shadow,

the sun is mine alone.

I reach, I 

touch— 

it burns.