Incognito

Delicate like drying leaves in fall

so simply laced with gifts unknown

the unattainable, the unforgiving

breezing by in autumn winds.

 

Morning light lifts their skirts in search

of sunshine where threads tingle on curves

of destinies beyond the reach

of the stranded traveller on the street’s ill-crescent.

 

Blooming scents under pillows suffocate

past their spring of afterthoughts

past their youth of adolescence

grow stale in the premature season.

 

I watch these petals unfold so gently

timid and all the same

awake in morning sleep

so malnourished in the mind,

so overfed at heart.

 

Passing by I whiff the air

perfumes of incognito

holding their invisible umbrellas

above their done up hair.

 

And during spring

their necks will bare

the ripened scents of innocence.

 

When warm gushes begin to glide

naturally

yet again.

 

Oh these blossoms raisin dry

taste much less in autumn skies

true colours only on trees pulsate

when barren grounds are frozen brown.

 

Marek Birner – Sep 12/13, 2013.