With toes curling around the familiar boards,
I silently count the climb in my head
one
two
three
four
five
The waning heat of an October sun
is no longer strong enough to warm the old wood
beneath my bare feet
The canopy of oak encloses me in his age old arms
majestic and proud
I inhale~
The scent of summer releasing its hold
wraps me in a dappled haze.
Like the web spun by the spider trembling in the evening breeze,
I cling to corners of old memories
and a ghost that was your voice.
Hollow on warm lips,
I whisper your name to the leaves.
Adding your comment:
of your work 
lol
