the air is somersaulting a leaf, and
your voice is faintly heard between the trees;
the echoes tell me
you still speak in broken accents.

piles have gathered, mocking at my feet
the presence you bear in autumn.

these days,
hours swallow minutes while seconds turn into regrets,
because your words never amounted to truths.

with the seasons, you left,
burning hair that once twisted through your fingers
into nothing but dissolution.
you make for a sad anecdote, except
under the harvest moon, as tears glisten through your silhouette
i remember why i agreed to dance with you,
whispering lyrics through the air into my ear.

now i am perched upon this limb,
peering over you and her,
wondering about fairy tales and
knowing she'll only be the beauty to your hero.
i would've been the breath beneath your leaves;
instead, i am the torch between your lips.

07/11/2005

Author's Note: Alaina Schneider says/writes things that make me wanna move to Cali. Do go leave her a comment as well, please. Her library puts mine to shame.

Posted on 07/11/2005
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