Cool air spiced with drying, dying leaves
reminds me of my husband
and a sonnet written by Shakespeare
to his love, likening his dropping hair
to autumn trees and death. A real bear,
my husband has gone to his den, shoulders hunched.
When we met, we fit--
I blotted out the rest.
Illness, that cruel hunter, shot to maim.
He’s like the jeans I pull on every morning--
worn but comfy watching TV together
or walking, alone, on a misty afternoon.
I will cherish each embrace and kiss
which may leave ere long, as Shakespeare wrote.
For Jacqueline Coleman-Fried, a poet living in Tuckahoe, NY, writing poetry is a way to share experiences, observations, insights and truths. She always had the urge get it all down on paper, but for decades, paid no attention to it. Retiring from the paycheck world five years ago liberated her to focus entirely on studying poetry and writing her own. Ms. Coleman-Fried holds a BA in English and Art History, as well as a Master's of Science in Journalism.