Is this love that I feel
This need to have you near
This sensation that keeps you cradled.

 

The smell of brown sugar and pumpkin spice
Pieces of ourselves given in comfort;
The depth of ourselves inhaled deep
A sheer pleasure indulged stepping outside

 


Discovering a new branch of fear
[Should you leave]
If you ever
In The harsh wind of God's whisper
What of The memories left behind
Cinnamon brown, the wither of leaves soon to crumble
Never to glance back;

 

Turning to God for console
A renewed vision
At untimely end
Falling to what is left
My leaf
My desire
My branch
To pavement cold; bare