The Changeling a poem by Elise Cholere.

Aud; the name speaks of the ordinary But who can be so, without reference To the Other? All that can be said is that he is; He was. When he was, he loved. But she is lost. Ordinary again; we all have loved But love is not ordinary. He gave, and the cost Was change. No longer past but now. What was lost? When he so loved? Love makes captive; yet now Is he free. Slavery remains a memory, Which the mind may not Transcend. Aud speaks: Life, did you not think That I would notice my dreams Shrinking year on year? As though to clothe my time Remaining. Nature, we imagine that we escape You, Maturing through your cycle. Time is the space we breathe in, But what grows there always dies. The Other speaks: In Summer we raise our eyes in hope; A snowflake falls; Winter is coming.