How am I supposed to breathe when you're not here?
Oxygen has not been kind to me.
When the leaves fall and soon enough they'll make a crisp beneath my soles
And the brisk wind will come whistling past my ears pinking my cheeks
Will you still be there in my dreams?
Will you still be my escape?

And then when the snow starts to fall and those leaves begin to fade from sight
When the ochre sweaters turn into fur coats
And the people no longer carry umbrellas but coffee mugs
Will I still wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat
Grasping at the greedy oxygen
Reaching for you
Angry with the futility of my predicament?

Or will the fresh leaves of spring bring relief?