Changes
Crooked
trees shed last year’s sins and autumn
blows away the poets’ smoke
as they sit indoors
writing
about winter snow.
I am lost somewhere between,
smelling burning leaves
and drinking in nostalgia.
The biting wind brings a future.
I wish it away—
I swim through the past.
Stiff grass cutting my legs, and
skies clearer than
your eyes ever were.
Fall falling.
It gets cold even here.
Even with you away.
Glued to the torn little chair with
its legs, cracking and creaking
in front of that window.
Hearing the leaves scrape by.
The gray light
illuminating that long-passed goodbye.
Fingers pressed against the screen,
tasting rust.
That song,
that song is in my head again.
Spidery lines on heavy paper
Little drops of sentiment.
I miss you.
trees shed last year’s sins and autumn
blows away the poets’ smoke
as they sit indoors
writing
about winter snow.
I am lost somewhere between,
smelling burning leaves
and drinking in nostalgia.
The biting wind brings a future.
I wish it away—
I swim through the past.
Stiff grass cutting my legs, and
skies clearer than
your eyes ever were.
Fall falling.
It gets cold even here.
Even with you away.
Glued to the torn little chair with
its legs, cracking and creaking
in front of that window.
Hearing the leaves scrape by.
The gray light
illuminating that long-passed goodbye.
Fingers pressed against the screen,
tasting rust.
That song,
that song is in my head again.
Spidery lines on heavy paper
Little drops of sentiment.
I miss you.