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written by: Ian Richardson


Then there was the day
when I saw the leaf fall and
I said
But it doesn’t matter what
I said
Is it time then?
And I reached for your hand and
Grasped air.
When the green leaches back into
The unseen
When the surge and softness
Is absent in the way that
Made me ask
What was it?
And the rustle of the leaf
Is all that is left of the gentleness.
And who will say if the Fall
is the end of Summer
Or the start of some new Winter.
I should
I said
Take this
And press it in a book
To dry.

Ian Richardson

Ian Richardson

Ian Richardson is London-based UK author. He has been twice nominated for the Pushcart Prize. His previous publications include the literary magazines Bartleby Snopes, Litro and Here Comes Everything, the actors’ sourcebook 222 More Comedy Monologues published by Smith & Kraus, Spillwords and Between These Shores Literary & Arts Annual. He has also published in short story anthologies.
Ian Richardson

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