Revisiting October

This earth is embroidered with green and gold,
leaves shall leave, though the trees stand still;
who haunts this pavilion in this silent cold,
when October returns with a gusty quill?

This garden I recall from hazy dreams,
of an innocent past on copper stained pages;
an unfolding history from the celestial beams,
perhaps never was it for one whose heart never ages.

Where lies the pretty outskirts of Moscow?
Who was that woman in Kramskoi’s tale?
The old barn embraces me with fresh muddy soil,
as I hear his pen brushing against October’s ail.

29 Sep 2018, Tchaikovsky’s House, Klin

Published in: on 21/10/2018 at 10:09 PM  Leave a Comment  

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