Outside my windows,
the leaves fall, unashamedly,
gracefully,
like they're sure,
someone will catch them,
undoubtedly.

In the distance, I hear
A familiar tune, playing,
With words too blurred,
To make any sense of the song,
Nostalgia of the home I left behind
Comes creeping,
Slowly and then all at once.

On my table, sit papers,
All empty,
Pen held tight in my hands,
Benign,
Feelings at the tip of my fingers,
I can't find words for.