October Daze

By Winston Le
[contributor]

In October Daze,

Death sits at the edge of my bedside.
The touch of his bare bones makes my haggard body
seep out sweltering sweat, it slides and drips;
beads of water falling on the floor and then shattering.
On this day, oak leaves fade into a brown decay,
but from these changing leaves of icterine and vermillion,
I recall a brisk breeze breathing across meditative meadows
on summer days, which dream away October daze.

Waking up amidst the sun ablaze above a sea-green greenery
and the orange hue of the horizon rising over emerald hills.
Further out, the sea’s swerves and curves sung like a siren’s song,
and in dusk, aubergine fires lingered among the clouds,
until all that was left were shades of cobalt and obsidian.
After sunken sunset, I stood at the edge of dark,
listening to the clicks of crickets and watching
the luminous lanterns of fireflies radiate.

Daylight is light; leaves are flaked and cracked.
I wished fall were far away, yet with
wisps of winter’s wistful wind,
these shrivelled, wrinkled, and withered
leaves will fall in fall and then
crumple and crumble.