You are as brisk as the wind in October
it’s as if you came just to go
you changed color and fell off
just as I grew accustomed to the sound of you
I collect the pieces you left me
and put them away for the winter
Will the spring rain bring you back
to grow the contempt that was buried beneath my
Will the summer sun melt my heart?
Can I forget the way I felt?
Is it even possible for you to stay?
Or will I be caught in the harvest this