When autumn comes, and leaves are blowing wild,
I think of her when we were young of face;
And how she all my fantasies beguiled,
And came to mean that season and that place.
She moved on years ago, and so did I;
I have the love I dreamed of all those turns –
I could not say what came of her, or why
One love goes cold, another stays and burns.
But still the autumn ages come to us,
We freeze them in our hearts for times when we
Can reexamine things, without a fuss,
To know our hearts in their insanity.
For love, like autumn leaves, may come our way
To rustle past, and soon be blown away.