Each orange leaf,
is a tear
from missing her,
falling to ground,
landing at my feet.
I rake,
but faster they fall,
and
I can not keep up.
The season turns,
in this my life,
with not she in it.
No good night,
no good morning,
no good day,
no way, no way.
No arms to hold me,
I go un-held,
with no she to hold.
