when all the colors…

… we have ever dreamed

a saturday, with many staying in
to watch a football game, or be with friends:
he wandered out to see the autumn leaves,
as new in town he was, and restless kept

the stretch of woods he walked was gorgeous dressed;
he listened not to music, just the sound
of wind and cars and people as they went,
and felt the cool of autumn brush his neck

and saw a woman standing by a bridge:
a walking path above a tiny creek,
who stood there leaning with a book in hand,
and in it, for a bookmark, was a leaf

she said “hello” as he was walking by,
and he said “hi. what are you reading, there?”
“a book on inner sanctity,” she laughed,
and he did, too. and then he asked her name

she told it him, as he then told her his;
he said he was still new in town, and worked
at such-and-such a place. and she remarked
upon the colors of the fall that year

so step back with me now, and merely watch:
see unsuspecting love peek out its head –
as two who set out just to be alone,
now walking slowly through the glorious fall

when all the colors they had never known
were seen at once in all that may yet be:
come watch them now, as i do, in my mind,
as he discovers she discovers he

for love’s a story always with a start,
be it one of beginning or surprise,
when all the colors we have ever dreamed
get wrapped up all in one,
and so
do we

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

2 thoughts on “when all the colors…”

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