Autumn Lane

Autumn Lane …

Autumn Lane
Autumn Lane

In early morning I walk down the lane
As sun kisses golden leaves on the trees.
Crisp leaves under my feet still remain
In splendid colors and still shades of green.

I stop in front of the empty house
That once we called our home.
The yard is not like it used to be,
Before you decided to roam.

It is so hard for me to walk down Autumn Lane, the name we gave that old dirt road running by
the house. The house has been empty for so long now. I kept everything inside just as it was the
day you left.

I stayed there for several weeks, but the loneliness began to take over my daily thoughts and nightly
dreams. I carry the key on a chain around my neck, right next to the gold heart you gave me so
many years ago. I moved back to the city where I am still alone, but at least in a place that is only
me. Every Sunday I drive out here to slowly walk down the lane, like we used to do together.

I tried to go into the house every Sunday to check and make sure all is well. The dust covers on
furniture only remind me of what used to be. It became so hard for me to enter there. It was like
torture every time I unlocked the back door and stepped into the kitchen. Funny, but there are still
some cans of things in the pantry. The black beans we loved so well in our salads, scrambled eggs and
burritos, spices and herbs left abandoned, I took out the onions and carrots finally. They were getting
a little too ripe.

I just could not torment myself any longer by entering our loving memories. I have not been in the
house for over a month now. I sent you a letter, asking you to help me get the house emptied and
ready for the market. I have not heard back from you. It has been two weeks since I sent that letter.
I guess you do not have time for the house any more either.

Autumn Lane ~

I turned away from the house and continued on down Autumn Lane. I brought my camera to take
pictures of the little critters along the way. There! A cottontail peacefully nibbling on some grass.
And a squirrel scampering up a tree with something bulging his cheeks out, probably hazelnuts.
The wild flowers are beautiful this year. The honey bees are lazily buzzing around them.

I walked farther than usual today, clear down to the lake almost. I could not bear to go to the lake and see our old row boat tied to the dock, looking so forlorn and abandoned, just like me. I turned
back and stopped by the maple trees. There were so many beautiful leaves that I wanted to gather
them all to me. I knelt down and started to pick them up, to put in my basket and take back to the
city with me. But, when I knelt down, I simply collapsed in those pile of leaves. I finally let the
tears flow as I lay there for I don’t know how long. I am sure I left enough tears there for the leaves to
grow new trees.

Slowly getting back up on my feet, I was filled with a new determination to live, to organize things
and bring some closure to what used to be. I walked back to the house with new energy and when I
got there I saw your car in the driveway. I just stood there, not knowing what to do.

After a few minutes, you came out the front door and asked me if we could start anew.
~ ~ ~
© 2016 Phyllis Doyle Burns

Phyllis Doyle Burns
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Phyllis Doyle Burns

Site Manager, Senior Editor at The Creative Exiles
I have always liked to write.It is important to me that I write with spirit and heart. When writing poetry, if I do not feel a spiritual connection to what I am writing on, I will discard it and go on to something I can connect with on a spiritual level. I live in the moment, I write from the past or beyond the veil. When writing fiction I go with whatever inspires me at the moment - it could be funny, sorrowful, romantic or sometimes done with the use of colloquial language from mountain folk or other cultural regions. Thank you for visiting.
Phyllis Doyle Burns
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Phyllis Doyle Burns

I have always liked to write. It is important to me that I write with spirit and heart. When writing poetry, if I do not feel a spiritual connection to what I am writing on, I will discard it and go on to something I can connect with on a spiritual level. I live in the moment, I write from the past or beyond the veil. When writing fiction I go with whatever inspires me at the moment - it could be funny, sorrowful, romantic or sometimes done with the use of colloquial language from mountain folk or other cultural regions. Thank you for visiting.

12 thoughts on “Autumn Lane

    • September 17, 2016 at 10:09 PM
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      Thank you, Nithya. So glad you like happy endings. I do, too. Thanks for reading and commenting.

      Reply
  • September 17, 2016 at 11:03 PM
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    Oh so, so lovely! I enjoyed this one, Phyllis. Ah! Autumn seems to touch everyone; in every season of life, be it happy or sad. The sentence, ‘I am sure I left enough tears there for the leaves to grow new trees…’ just touched my soul. Happy ending 🙂

    Reply
  • September 17, 2016 at 11:11 PM
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    Beautiful memories Phyllis, and a tinge of sadness for change that took it all way. Yet we may revisit with our warm memories, as you have done so eloquently here. Lovely work.

    Reply
    • September 18, 2016 at 1:02 AM
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      Thank you, Tony, for the very kind praise “eloquently”, makes me happy that is how you see it. This story has been buzzing in my head for over a week now and I finally found the time to let it out. Thanks for reading and commenting – I appreciate it.

      Reply
  • September 17, 2016 at 11:15 PM
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    This as such a sad tale, Phyllis..right until the end which turned it all around. Well done.

    Reply
    • September 17, 2016 at 11:21 PM
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      Thank you, John. I just could not leave her there on the lane in a pile of leaves. Yep, a new beginning for them. Thank you so much.

      Reply
  • September 18, 2016 at 4:49 AM
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    Happy endings are good, I think we all have our Autumn Lane in our lives. Mine is called Grove Street. I love this piece.

    Reply
    • September 18, 2016 at 10:26 AM
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      Yes, happy endings are the best, but sometimes a good twist can shake us up a bit. Thanks for reading and commenting, Kurt.

      Reply
  • September 18, 2016 at 7:33 PM
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    I wish I understood poetry the way you do, Phyllis, able to navigate so smoothly from verse to prose. I especially enjoyed the last second twist.

    Reply
    • September 19, 2016 at 12:01 AM
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      Gosh! That is a great compliment coming from you, Will, on the twist. Thank you. I never really go into poetry till a few years ago then just dove in head first to learn all I could. Rhythm, I found is often more important than rhyme. It must be smooth so as to flow without hesitation. I believe you do have poetry within you, for words seem to flow out smoothly when you write. Poetry would come easily to you. I can give you some tips if you are really interested. Thank you for your very kind comment, Will – I so appreciate you.

      Reply

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