the beauty of autumnal trees never
rested in your gaze / the collected
colours sat sickly / strewn in sound
and taste / I wandered forests with you
and my only grandfather / wondering
where the vibrant summer had gone.
Your ghost was in the trees
whistling through the gnarly knots,
I heard your purple name in a haze
that I had forgotten.
Since I was wrong,
summer has been cold.
I thought that you might live
with your snow hair / forever.