Final Autumn - Poem by Annie Finch
Maple leaves turn black in the courtyard.
Light drives lower and one bluejay crams
our cold memories out past the sun,
each time your traces come past the shadows
and visit under my looking-glass fingers
that lift and block out the sun.
Come—I'll trace you one final autumn,
and you can trace your last homecoming
into the snow or the sun.
Comments about Final Autumn by Annie Finch
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You