DEATH Poem: I feel the same age as autumn, by Suzanne White

September opens the curtains
to a painful wind
and I know I am the tree
outside my window
becoming bare.
My father’s in his cancer chair
alone
chatting with the nurses
as if they’d made a date.
His wife waits for him
in the vast black parking lot.
She posts she’s been in the used bookstore
and had avocado toast for breakfast.
Too soon
summer’s over.
Every autumn secretly waits, for death
comes into town whistling
puttering about
arranging our existence.
I envision my regeneration;
the same tree out my window, maybe
or on a boat at sea.

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest