Coco

Autumn sculpts the land,

casting away Summer, 

but through the cracks in the clay, 

whispers of Summer haunt the day.

The suns ray's seep down,

casting the red and orange leaves a glow.  

Need less. Give more.  
Stop looking for the sorrow in life. 
Watch the good things grow.  
Don't give up. 

I write in pen

to get comfortable with my mistakes

to catch all my thoughts

scatterbrained

and fleeting

pens scratch the itch to write

better than any graphite

the use of ink before pencils