children of the first Amen [autumn] #poem #poetry

we were young when our autumn
came to burn leaves in the park
drunk with iambic pentameters
you called me Beatrice by the old fountain
we floated high in the veined sky
in the clouds we lit a candle
with threads of love we sewed our lips
children of the first Amen
we did not see the rain was coming
like heavy fruits forgotten by a harvester on trees
we fell on the same bench right by the fountain
the autumn burned us
and gale winds
blew our ashes to nowhere

@short-prose-fiction

image:  Aleshyn_Andrei; Shutterstock; [link]