It was an early autumn day when I saw you standing there,
A lithe fair-faced maiden with curls of flaming hair.
You stood amongst the tired trees with leaves of matching hue,
And when I spoke to say “hello” you urged me to pursue.
You ran bare-footed treading light and I knew I had to try.
Your name, at least, I had to know else I felt that I might die.
Around every turn and bend I followed - passion leading as my guide.
And when I found they slowed me, shield and hauberk I cast aside.
Try as I might I could not keep pace and by dusk you slipped away.
Even now, with years long past, I think back pining for that day.
What was your name, lovely nymph, with red hair like shifting leaves?
Do you still appear some days in the months of winter’s eve?
Standing bare in the dying world and wrapped by the golden sun?
I weep to think we’ll never meet again before my days are done.
