When the leaves fall, so do I.
My limbs let go in the wet night—
Down: heavy with thoughts.
Under the glare of the lights,
Lining the streets,
The slick roads become my mirror.
But, all I see in the reflection
Is burden after burden
Falling in the illumination
Of the night.

Then, after the Fall,
You appear, our comfort,
Gathering us up
Into cups
Of piles
With our different styles,
Our different hues:
Scarlet, gold, and orange—face to face.
Our bodies wet with yesterday’s tears
Serve as comfort, our bond.

Still, we grieve
That we must unleave.

Posted in Perspective, Poetry