You remind me of Fall
Maybe that’s because of the russet in your hair
The crackle in your voice
The crispness in your emerald eyes

Or how you always seem to be so hollow;
Like an oak tree
Confliction squirreling up inside a beautiful mind
Making nests; hibernating in dark places

A shell of who you used to be--could’ve been
Lays upon fallen leaves
And like all things in fall,
Withers and dies with them too.