Cure Me Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Cure me of this love
That the wind bestows
Like the leaves above
Flying in autumn glows
Red as morning bliss
On a lonely street
Is every fallen kiss
In its bleaching bleat

Cure me from solitary
When the winter comes
And the breeze gets airy
As it coldly strums
When colors fall gray
In an endless dark
And love's not in my way
For its plying embark

Cure me of love sickness
And longing so much
Like leaf in air quickness
Red earth must touch
In blanching autumn burn
When I long for you
Dear, but you won't return
Because we're through