Art by Fujiko Rose
I’m shaking
sun dried oaks to
try to gather
up the leaves again.
they crumble
into dust in
ways the buds can’t
have perceived again.
the length of
summer’s haunting
me I’m feeling
young and green but still
it can’t be
springtime when the
chill foretells the
coming freeze
I thought I finally knew me.
About the Creator
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