Colours of Autumn by Samantha Burns

I am not a silent poet

I pressed myself into your cover,

and sewed to it a piece of now.

Falling like the leaves outside,

I fall to you, longing the rich purple

paint. Your signature of our time

you were mine, and mine alone.

There was no kiss hello, goodbye –

Your thumb is tucked under fingers

with each stroke the knuckles brush.

Will you keep me here and hang me

for all your canvases to be warned.

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