There goes the sunlight,

grazing her cheek golden,

passing off as comfortable warmth,

though her eyes remain hollow.

There goes the afternoon breeze,

picking up her skirt with a dancer’s grace.

Her lips become no longer downturned,

though her eyes remain hollow.

What a day to be out and about,

to contemplate with baited breath,

yet the lush green goes unnoticed,

the orange hue of the sky forgotten.

Eyes now tightly closed, 

she can’t help but wonder

what she would find, deep bellow.

The world turns opaque

against her dainty thin eyelids.

And as the church bell’s solemn toll,

allows her long coming bloom,

she finds her throat aches

with thick viscous burden

And she tries, desperately, to swallow

She wishes, not for the first time,

to know what there is bellow,

to know if whichever underlying empire is far enough away. 

Far enough away from the suffocating gold,

Far enough from engulfing autumn; 

Out of reach of impending doom.