an early morning
moving truck,
mother’s lip stained
coffee cup,
her majesty-
tobacco
queen,
a muffled sigh
in flannel
sleeve,
ledge littered with
fall’s blood
drained
leaves.
last caged bird
of memory
flees.
Author: grumpygorman
this season clouds
my vision,
although i pray
in time,
these fall leaves will
look inspiring
in the background
of my mind.
no leaf like
the next,
restless children
of fall-
scattered and
vibrant,
in play or
at rest,
tiny toes flatten
grass,
eyes drift like
clouds
through dream
filled skies,
when grown weary,
we cozy
inside,
no leaf like
the next,
autumn ache
floods my
chest.
no one knows like
quiet holds
the codes to crystal
eden,
drawn closer than
once taught
through fractured
slogans
that left child no
space to
feel.
turning on the
soft lights
only to be
further scared
by the reflection
of a movie
never scripted to
be shared.
autumn tones bleed
through the
drab,
rust and red
paint nature’s slab,
doom cast on breath
of summer
vows..
mere whispers now
as window
locks,
sleep
taunts parents,
kids
fear clocks.
why don’t i trust
to say?
why can’t you see
what’s in the
way..
we kiss, before
the freeze
makes it impossible
to breathe.
glad you’ve held up
dry and
well,
pleased you’re a flower
elsewhere,
we dreamed escapes
together,
though never found
the time,
blaming less than perfect
weather.
tea taints lip of
paper cup,
mist like incense
ribbons drift
from thoughts-
the yawn that can’t
be stopped,
in blue shade corner
coffee shop.
sitting in on
fictions
not meant for escapist
ears like
mine,
grown deaf to words
that dress the
world
in anything but
feathers.
hands in the garden 
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