Some Other Autumn
The autumn trees were clad in brilliant hues
That trickled through brisk air to blanket earth
With patchwork carpet, covering the path
Where dreams were born, our gems of untold worth.
Then you were called to fight on foreign soil,
While I was left to wait, all dreams on hold.
The lonely months elapsed, then time stood still;
A fateful note transformed the warmth to cold.
The day when you returned, beneath draped flag,
Our son made his appearance from the womb.
His hand is now in mine; he wears your name;
His face is yours, without the years’ aplomb.
Some other autumn day we'll join once more
To savor what our futures have in store.
Jean, at 80, has been writing poems since she was 18. For 25 years she published a popular poetry quarterly of up to 100 pages, with a subscribership of nearly 500. Illness in 1986 ended the magazine. She currently publishes, by email, a 2-page monthly of clean humor. Contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org.