It was the autumn of our lives
Russet hues and ochre through the views that held our gaze as we forged ahead unfazed by the onset of middle age.
We had a sense of calm and oakened wisdom that only comes with the passage of time.
A patience and forbearance borne of familial love and desperation for our children to rise and thrive on the highest tides and not to sink and flounder in the murky depths of the recession’s doom and gloom.
It was the autumn of our lives and we could survive with less.
It was the autumn of our lives and we could smile at more.
No longer was it critical for the opening of the door to our desires and dreams
We became content to be thankful for the pleasures we had already received,
We were able to give with genuine compassion and cherish the gifts however small of each new day.
A sunrise, the crunch of leaves underfoot, a hand held for a moment too long,
The smell of freshly baked bread, a fragrant rose as the raindrops spilled from heaven above.
©Alison Jean Hankinson
