blue mountain reserve
and we walked down a sinuous road
to gaze upon the slipping sun amongst skeleton trees
entangled she was in grass far too high
icy blunt chop made soft by sweet wind
and by the water she stood, angelic
bright baby blues in that crinkled white dress
it was mid October when everything starts to die
but she did not wilt
monochrome in both self and surroundings
we found solace in that grass
that tall, too high grass
it swallowed us both
and like the sun we slipped away