Autumn

Pet by petal, the chrysanthemums shrivel.
Drop by drop, the streams slow down to a trickle.
The red leaves fall, the still pond ripples.
Here I sit, just me and my shadow.
Dreamy, 
Nostalgic, 
Quixotic.

The birds are flying south, their calls a distant echo.
Wine and food I have prepared, but alone I sit at the table. 
The floor is cold, silence reigns the house.
And so I remain, quiet as a mouse.
Pensive,
Yearning,
Hopeful.