I felt them recently,

you ask. They’re designed

quite near to remind me.

I didn’t think at all

that they might last this long.

Their sullen whistle foreshadows

ides of unrequited love,

of being lost inside a dream,

forever failing to be woken.

It’s in this mystique of words,

we left our quiet lives,

and now an autumn exists,

the fear of being forgotten.

I do praise the changing winds,

they’ll always mask the silence.