Beneath the Leaves

When the wind blows, leaves follow
A natural cleaning of the world, I assume
A reset, swept under the rug, returned to
That space between Neverland and Narnia
Gone. Never to be seen again

It’s been a year now, and the wind is blowing
The leaves, orange as lava, blanket the fields
A picnic, a spot to view the show
A warm spot to withstand the cold
Of three hundred days alone

Lightning. A fleeting flash of a memory
A flicker within the leaves, a shape
And you’re there
Your hands, course with time
Weave through the breeze like paper

You’ve changed, but not really
A loving gaze still felt, a gentle
Presence driving out the fear and
Uncertainty that persists like the constant
Ringing of a phone. Ringing. Ringing

Leave a message
Air escapes your thin frame like a flute
A deep breath of air, and we begin
Weaving like we used to do, spinning and stepping
A secret code to say you’re really there

The crunch of the leaves, the crack of your joints
It’s all somehow less surreal than that day
Your grip on my hands, on this world, worn down
Yet your cold touch warms me

A stupid fight, leaving again
Our - my phone ringing. Ringing
I let you try, a petty fit gone too far, like
A car crossing the curb
Gone, only for a moment

Yet here all along
With the rising of the sun, I know
I want to speak, for the first time, for the last
To express everything words couldn’t possibly say
You look back, and it’s already been said
I can still feel your touch as I watch you
Fall beneath the leaves, forever again.