The Autumn Moon Hangs
I am a poem
And I am ageless.
When I was one and twenty
I spoke of lingering sunsets into night,
Envying that solitary bird flapping vigorously,
Racing the sinking sun at end of day.
Decades and one later
I am still poem.
I am that sunset, sinking into the sea.
That golden leaf, waiting for that last gentle breeze.
I am that Autumn moon hanging
Over crayoned fields, now free of summer harvest,
Waiting for the last flight home.
I am still poem.
I am ageless.
©Frances Kakugawa