Autumn by the Sea

Being given a story

from an undercoat,

mist would thread

a shirt for you.

You are the autumn

all its forces are yours

the brown of the branches

the burgundy of carriages.

What kind of forecast?

Above all,

this season would look good on you

the black the purple

a flower pattern.

nothing mine

In the aftermath of our meeting on the Baltic bay

I send postcards

to every end of the world.

In some,

clear white ocean stretches

for miles

and in others

the wine dark sea

casts ever-shifting shadow.

Can the same ship

ever master two seas?

Deadly weather,

later

nothing of this either.

The old day

compared to your life

is asleep.

The night

will swallow me soon.