Autumn's Door...

who am i?
i just dont know anymore!
every page turned betrays the last,
no footprints left on stone!
even crows curse the coming storm,
the pilgrim trudges snowbound fields.
memory dimmed by time and ghosts,
sacrificed to the need for sin!
be that your body?
clothed in naked heat...
or the intimate beckoning of death?
am i then the spring that never came,
that you buried by autumn's door?
the sticky guilt of love unfulfilled,
splattered on the casket's walls!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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