Helicopter seeds
from my maple tree
drift down,
swaying
back
and
forth
from the strong branches above.
They all fall around me,
I am encapsulated by the swirling seedlings.
Snug within their warmth,
the wind sends me on my feet.
Dancing with the music of the air
that is rushing through my hair,
I inhale the sweet, mellow essence of what life has granted me.
Then I exhale the words,
"I am thankful for this life and the road, no matter how rocky, has served its purpose".
As I leave this place,
I hum the tune of the masterpiece conducted by the wind
that rustled in this tree.

why?
why do we always think we have more time?
as if the ticking pounding at our door went silent...

for just a few seconds...

we thought we had all the time in the world
but the ticking got louder, and louder
more violent every slam of their fist on love's door
and one day... the ticking stopped
the door caved in
and our time ran out

the part that hurts the most is that
i thought we pull our universes
and collide them into one...
together...

The essence of soft shadows cast up on my bedroom door every night.
I am watching as the silhouette of your body moves so slowly,
but yet so swift to leave.

Every night
the dark contour of your shape reminds me of what I have let drift away.
As your outline reaches for the doorknob,
it seems as if your figure gives one final stare
and walks out the doorway.

Every night
your shadow evokes every thought of you
and how you elapsed
from my grasp.