The crisp Autumn breeze
blows the fallen leaves
across the faded black top of my mind.
What used to be will never be again,
the scent of lingering bonfires
fill the air so sweetly now.
Remembrances linger upon the air,
red, orange, yellow fall into place
upon the ground where young dreams lived.
As we age, snow falls
upon the roof of aging humanity,
leading us to believe we are momentary beings.
Not just film noir black and white,
but a mosaic of all that is natural,
as we wander in this world technicolor.
For the light of hope shines brightly,
it shines for humanity to see
as days become shorter, nights longer,
we ache to feed the hunger
in our once youthful existence,
as we journey the black top in our reality.
Timothy Michael DiVito c2021