Each leaf that falls reminds
me of you.
The masses of gold, scarlet, and muddy
brown wafers collect at my feet.
The now-darkened leaves appear to be grasping at my skirt as they tumble, one
by one, from their branch-homes. Autumnís procession continues until all is
trampled by passers and soaked by the swords of rain from above. Saltwater
spills from my eyes and mixes with the heavensí tears in an effort to cure the
fallensí sorrow, but cannot.
All continues through the dim
I capture a particularly sad specimen in my hands. Rust-colored and torn, I
touch it to my lips as an apology before I release it.
The rain stops and night comes without warmth
Moon casts her light on the fallen souls and slowly takes in the scene.
A scene that will happen again