wearied by my abundance of honesty
that will never allow for an anonymous postcard.
why do I spend my days fighting nature?
10 four year olds is the most beautiful scene that dead leaves can buy.
and I see the boy i love unreasonably suffer through the fall
without my tree arms being able to catch him.
did I forget that autumn is the skipping season?
the time for pumpkin apple cider and long long thoughts.
forget truth
Just get me back to the wonder of fresh death
to where the leaves are swept away!
(that i might sit in them and rest.)
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