i fell for you like leaves of an oak tree in a southern autumn--
a little at first. slowly. one at a time. and then suddenly,
all at once. i tripped on my own shoelaces, forgetting
that the bunny hops around the bend and jumps through
the loop because the sound of your voice became the soundtrack
to my thanksgiving. bites of turkey, the smell of pie,
and the tiniest piece of you warm up my belly.
the leaves are changing colors the same way i change my mind--
green, then orange, yellow, brown, and back to green. you were my green,
but i couldn't just stay at yellow. "i'm your rock." say it again.
sturdy, stable, grounded. when i'm going at a mile a minute,
i wait for the rock to fall and trip me, like an untied shoelace.
i am a balloon floating in an october sky and you are the pole i am tied to,
so don't let go. i wouldn't know which way to fly, but **** i'll go far.
Oct 18, 2016
Oct 18, 2016 at 11:07 AM UTC
i fell for you like leaves of an oak tree in a southern autumn--
a little at first. slowly. one at a time. and then suddenly,
all at once. i tripped on my own shoelaces, forgetting
that the bunny hops around the bend and jumps through
the loop because the sound of your voice became the soundtrack
to my thanksgiving. bites of turkey, the smell of pie,
and the tiniest piece of you warm up my belly.
the leaves are changing colors the same way i change my mind--
green, then orange, yellow, brown, and back to green. you were my green,
but i couldn't just stay at yellow. "i'm your rock." say it again.
sturdy, stable, grounded. when i'm going at a mile a minute,
i wait for the rock to fall and trip me, like an untied shoelace.
i am a balloon floating in an october sky and you are the pole i am tied to,
so don't let go. i wouldn't know which way to fly, but **** i'll go far.
Request permission to use this poem