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The leaves they fall in pattern
A race to the finish
As the wintry mix
begins to hold its family reunion
Your hand is cold to touch, but mine
is warm enough for two
so come on over, and watch the
reports with me.

Listen to the leaves die for what they believe in.

For i need you here. In my jumbled mess. I my times
of confusion that mixes with the outside air. And we feel it, we all do.
It's just as much a part of us as white blood cells and neurons.
I look at you, and the sun runs off in terror of the moon.

I can't help but imagine the future of past actions, the way you learned to walk. To talk, and how it brought you into my winter life.