My Leaves Dance Gently

To the morning song

Photo by Jason Hafso on Unsplash

Leaves
rustling inside me
the wind is warm
and stale
the currents wayward,
undecided.

The leaves shan’t decay.

I know that regeneration is the window to the truth
but the eyes I glance at
are hollow.
Outside my window there’s only rain

plop
plop
plop

My leaves dance gently
to the morning song
the tunes of which are auburn
and long.

Like a Rocket