fall slips away. tomorrow is all we have left.
he said our classroom is haunted. we walked in.
the trees were undressing right in front of me.
i love all kinds of trees and the texture of bark. under branches there is a calm, almost feels like protection. an old growing tree is symbolic of strength and hope. her rustle lost in fall but found again come spring.
and the moon, like my name. i've thought of the moon and the night sky since i was a child.
we've turned every stone and for all our inventions in matters of love loss, we have no recourse at all.
and the leaves that were green turn to brown and they wither with the wind and they crumble in your hand.
plan on staying a while,
'til summer turns to fall
as i recall..
you've got what i need.