I Miss You

In the bitter scent of fall,

When the scraping

Down the hall

Of maple stars

Makes me wonder

If the years

Were worth it all.

Has life

Disappointed you

Or made you

Lose your fire?

Do you see October

As a winter prelude,

The mere remnants

Of desire?

Or perhaps you think

We're merely

Wine-stained dregs

Of lovers

We once were.