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DAVID BARNES
Reminiscence
It's another autumn
as I drive down Mounts bay road,
along the river Swan;
trees, only a week ago that were summer-green
had suddenly become a symphony
of rusts and yellows.
As a child
and as a man, autumn, was always
my favorite;
a season of color, a warm sonata treasured:
Yet now, it seems to me
the saddest of times,
a prelude to the inevitable winter
that lies ahead.
I pass by traffic, interspersed
on the way to the beach;
Matilda bay, and the boatshed subsist, tied
to the elements,
their reflections stilted,
Shadowy.
A few
resilient swimmers,
were at Cottesloe beach when I arrived.
I sat on the grass, my back
against the sandstone wall watching seagulls
soaring overhead on wings
that sweep through endless seasons -
only to disappear...
It's Saturday tomorrow, and then
Sunday again;
It fills me with reminiscence,
a windswept sorrow -
Autumn, was our favorite time.
Copyright 2006, DAVID BARNES, all rights retained |
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