Sepia

The whir of white on the ceiling
So far away, a wind of gold
Gently caressing my face, a lover’s embrace
Why is it that all ceilings look the same?

The autumn breeze wafts in from the window
Smell of colours fading, a lovely red in the air
Leaves falling, back to where they belong

The year is ending
Without so much as a whisper of goodbye
The spirits have long departed
Uncertainty becomes me

Someone plays the piano below
An enchanting melody yet no one appreciates it
The slamming of doors in the distance
Wakes me out of my reverie

The year is ending
Life moves on
Not for me it does not

I would rather stop here
And savour this moment
Time stands still for me
Be still