The Leaves fell gently as the January breeze touched the trees,
Slowly blanketing the cracked pavement in bright yellow and red the color of dried blood.
How elegantly the mosaic seemed to remind me of summer when we walked in the fading sun,
Arms locked as we smiled about nothing in particular in the sweltering heat.
Now winter drew me in as I waited for the calls you would never make
Or the words you would not whisper in my ear while we lay awake at night.
I am left wandering in the cold afternoon clinging to the ghost you left when you drove away for the final time,
Like the leaves on the ground, you won’t return to the branch that held you but only for a season.