It is Oaktober
the trees are rusting,
but within our hearts
it is still Spring.
The leaves are changing hue
they fall nonchalantly
and dress themselves in our hair
like Mercury’s cap,
as if wings could aid our escape
from life’s winter.
And as well, I change my perspective.
I swear the sky is clearer
and the air, much crisper
as I breathe in this season.
My lungs expanding
just a bit prouder
as I’m changing with you.
Kicking the leaves,
these scattered remnants
of the trees many colors,
now naked, they seem fragile
with branches as fingers
grasping for more life.
Reaching out, a silent plea;
Well, look at me, see me.
At the scars under shyness
numbering oh so many, but
your vision is tamed by mercy.
The gold of your eyes
is the Autumn sun captured
to warm me as I bare
my untethered body
from the fall of the air.
It is Oaktober,
my cloak is discarded,
now brittle foliage at your feet.
Toss it, careless, like leaves,
for I no longer need
any hindrance between
your arms and me.
The sun is chilled
it yields to night.
Darkness gathers, yet
there comes a light;
There’s still plenty of Autumn
within your eyes.
~~~
