a tree drops its leaves never to pick them up again.
I pick up words and move them around like the moon in its monthly ripeness.
Today can never be tomorrow, so why do I keep rereading the labels of food brought yesterday.
I watched the sky in sunset waning,
only to find my mind had never wanted to count again.
I drop thoughts like fall leaves,
he is brought up again and again,
unlike the clouds that pass by my window at dusk.