Last Night And Then This Morning

the last leaves of autumn fell,
finding a grave in the imprint
of stranger's feet-
shallow as it was, they seemed content

the leaves look more like wings,
imaginary things
that carry with them, the first cold breath of winter

wind wrestled with the margins of a book
left outside the local coffee shop-
someone had forgotten it, maybe
they had no more use for it

to think about the nights
spent in the anguish of absence
when a book is the only sanctuary
in loneliness

this is the way
to make amends with shadows,
to offer a truce to the past

on some nights
the book we read
is the one we're writing
and memory and wind
aren't always so comforting

by Amberlee Carter

Comments (5)

And I came back for another read. Tis just a great work. Joe
Amberlee, This has allways been one of my very favorite, of yours. Steller! Joe
Just beautiful Amberlee!
Amberlee, I really like your poems, but I can't figure out how to message you. If you'd check out my poems, I'd be really grateful.
outstanding work. especially that last line: 'on some nights...' you really know how to conjure up some powerful images and provoking notions. rock on, rock on! Jake