Autumn’s lease and summer’s day
have found me in my spot,
here where city winds travel round and round
here where iron’s gate on my heart is wrought,
plant turn by planet turn.
Ten minutes more is all I crave,
ten minutes, and so much more—
an answer of sorts before I go,
something or someone to show me to my grave.
O do not let me go down all alone.
Dear my love, my life, my light and my friend—
could you be the usher of yet another chance, in two
well-paced steps, for one who regrets it all?
Can you rewind the life-tape
on a life near lived out, all-in-all?
And there, and there,
and there again—
seeking an even count on a long gone urn
which carries some faint relief depiction
of a stone’s story told turn
by
turn?
metonymy4u 
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