Trees shed their hides,
basking, fully themselves, in this sun.
The air bites their bark,
Their branches swing more freely.
The leaves congregate on the ground,
piling up, scrunching together,
in the yard, and along the side of the road.
Flying through breezes.
I sit on the window seat,
looking out at a world in a snow globe
Everything's falling
down.
*braces self for hate*
No comments:
Post a Comment