Was it you who said the Winter was coming? The sun was shining on a string beer bottle bodies beach- bound. There were no waves that day save from my arm to yours limb-long hellos falling, hitting heavy the ground. A golden Autumn was here, in the café they told me in accents from home that left me undone. Golden leaves, golden trees, golden pleases and thankyous golden bittes and dankes all lost on my tongue.
Advertisement
