by-Matthew F. Blowers III

In the winter of our love,

my limbs grew barren

from your many leaves,

driven from my hopes

by your full blown anger.

I watched the fall progress,

till I was stripped

of all dignity,

the multicolored beauty

of your passion swept away.

Inconsequential things

that matter little now

since I am bare without you

and your are vanished in the wind.

Long after you have been raked

over my soul and and relegated

to the remains of what was

there will be buds of hope emerging,

for a new love to grow in your place,

but the roots run deep