You always asked me why,
how did leaves change color
giggling from the red wagon
I pulled around the block.

As the leaves parade, an early flaming row
burned into memory, your voice
is missing in the trees.
Wishing it returned

with the falling.

© Ali Grimshaw 2018

dVerse challenge Quadrille #67 – early




To lose you

would be a sea without waves

moan of Winter wind

outside as I lay cold in bed.

To lose you

would be the wilt of wildflowers

a bow of small heads around the globe.

My eyes squeezed shut

effort of not remembering.

To lose you

would be loss for those

yet to hear your hearty chuckle,

low and warm

its own kind of song.

© Ali Grimshaw 2017


Axis Tilt



Could this be the final day

of an autumn that I thought would last?

A mellowing of red between us

once crackling emotions now dust bits

collected in a whirling dervish

carried away in the wind.

Now I am an empty street waiting

for the street light to click on.

Predictable and ever awed

by the chance

to begin again.

© Alicia Grimshaw  Reposting from 2016






You took the colors with you.

When the last leaf has fallen,

and I am left on my own,

my sorrow will have no company.

You took the colors with you.


You took the colors with you,

my questions left alone in the air.

Bleached silence, no reply.


I gave away too much again, 

White walls with no solutions,

an empty palette in my hands. 

© Ali Grimshaw

After I posted the above poem printed in red. The Original Phoenix asked me this question, “How do you find the new colors?”  What a wonderful question to consider. Today I dedicate this expanded poem to her for inspiring me to dig deeper and bring the rest to life. Although I still didn’t answer her question, I continue to ponder it. Thank you! Check out her blog, CONFESSIONS OF A REBORN GIRL.  Never underestimate the power of offering feedback.  We all need each other.




Farewell To Come

Like drops of rain

your temporary presence is

sliding away in moments

reflected in your eyes.

I ache with holding the love

and the loss to come

while we dance in this final day.


What is there to say

that we have not already lived?

The moment will soon arrive

a storm inside me

words a jumble on my tongue

there is no good way to watch you

walk back to your other life.

© Ali Grimshaw 2016