Correspondence leading to Equinox

Window, of opportunity

Seemingly life slowed for one,

similarly for another

time loomed shorter.

Then quietude

as pen slows,

dialogue slides to monologue.

Pen lifts off paper

and that,

pushed away.

You took your summer,

your seasonal desires,

he got his vacation, finally.

Soon, my summer,

transitions then

the autumn of my life.

Too late, seems,

I was at your gate,

but now mine beckons others.

But enough,

not even that

for I divest.

Look up dearest

what does your life see?

Tree, fruits, vine?

Flat lining across that horizon,

or perchance perceive, cool courtyard,

a mountain that moves with the sun, surf-sound?