Leaving Song

Katy Willis

Now is the winter of my discontent
  To be reformed, transfigured into spring?
  I cannot seem to hold to anything
That by this sudden blossom is not rent.
I leave a love behind, unfathomed still;
  I have a hope before me, waiting yet;
  And trapped so, where no boundaries are set,
I find a faith, an unexpected will.
The summer is impending in the autumn;
  The promise is penumbred by the wilt;
  Before new petals grow, leaves must be spilt
On forest floors, at garden’s edge and bottom. . .
    Fall, leaves, as my heart, for leave I must,
    And autumn presses on, and we are dust.

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