If you had asked me
I would have waited forever.
But autumn is gone
Leaving only the taste of apples
The smell of rain
The sound of a piano on a Friday afternoon
Bookshelves that gather dust and whisper to me
Stories of impermanence
While you are not among these things.
Your voice does not reach out to me
Asking me to wait
Calling me to come back.
It visits me in dreams
Anguished and pleading
Begging me to let you go.