Autumn's Lovers And Poets Poem by Kai van Tonder

All who would read
this lingering page,
those who invade minds of
all-or-none poets driven
by soft whispers in the night air.
See my trembling pen on page,
hands cold in tumbling winds,
lashing hair against a face
of burning hot fear—
or is it victory?

Those who never know
of sea salt tear drops dried
onto black paint,
spent only longing for relief
of the cold hard dread
built into this book of feeling
and countless drops of tears
to be collected.

Autumn leaves blow onto covers
of past renaissance and
lovers entwine against ice
in the frozen air of newly turned seasons.

A poet sits under streetlights,
still singing of butterfly wings
and of salty kisses under sheets.
She sings of love that no one knows
in indescribable notes
and of lust
and of life
and of air
like a knife.

It cuts off thought,
it brings back tremors and
tears freeze against cheeks
as lovers continue on with no thought
of the lonesome poet
condemned to the park bench
planted by her feet.

She sings on to the moon,
the sun and fog in gloom.
She wanders in life and
she dies in strife
of what could have been perfect,
only a page left behind.