Come, Tell Me

Come, tell me what has changed.
How much; have you? Haven’t we all?
I know how you are even though
Words and sight have fallen aside
To our own respective lives.
I remember we used to burn Autumn leaves
In the fire pit in the backyard of our
Small piece of Suburbia,
And I remember the unique smell of
The smoke – as if Spring and Summer
Condensed in an alchemy to these
Final temperate days, and it is a
Reminder that for all your speak of
Change you never have yourself.

It is almost a melancholic peculiarity to me.

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