Withering into a dead thing

All in her splendor
my love went into the world,
and the new morning.

My best friend caught her eye
while she walked
into the sun.

shaking her head
to make her hair fall
in a frenzy of auburn colors.

The sea was turning
taking the tide in
and so were the seasons

from autumn in to winter
and winter charging
into spring

and our love
was left behind
withering into a dead thing.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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