Breath of Fall.

A soft pink petal falls slowly to the ground.

My shaking fingers pluck it from the grass and gently caress it as if it once drew breath.

The wind sings a final gusty note of a song that has long played for the world.

Eyes scan the scene that was once a brilliant and fiery red sunset over the plains of the heart.

However the dull stain of milky blue washes over the land.

Once soft pink petals now ashen in appearance and abrasive in texture, fall now like waves of dead snow.

And as twilight settles again on this heart, so too does the land grow dark.


Ode to College.

Restless nights.

Crumpled papers.

Half-smoked cigarettes.

Snapped pencils.

Broken pens.

Dilapidated note books.

Three cups of coffee.

Red eyes.

Eighteen percent battery life.

Computer screens.

Desk lamps.

Dark rooms.

Ten percent battery life.

Frank Sinatra’s greatest hits.

Four water bottles.

Two cliff bars.

Early mornings.

Peaceful showers.

Twenty minute drives.

No parking spaces.

Three hour lectures.

Two cups of coffee.

One paper due.

One bad addiction.

Two mental breakdowns.

Three papers due.

One college student…

© – P.M. 9-29-15