You may be the first or the last
But dropped into memory holes
To vanish completely,
Or pass
With no remarkable roles,
But one - to be autumn for good
And burn down any green wood
To smouldering bodies, to cinder,
To ashes of grey freezing winter.
May be unnumbered at all,
Randomly hit with a thong
Cracking with breakage occurred
On thin veins of dry golden fronds.
You may be .. or may be not...
10/2017