I wish I could describe to you the catching of the sun

On the afternoon leaves.

To tell you their story and appearance

In a way you have not been told

Every other day of your life.



I wish I could instil in you the same thrill

That flutters my heart

When the chemistry of words spill across the page

And fall into a perfect endless spiral



I wish I could sing to you

Past the broken sounds that fill my throat

And the stifling of that timid ghost

That haunts me every day.



I want to fill the rafters

With the tapestries of my non-experience

And the feel the groan of the orchestra behind me

As I tell the tales of my selfish angst.



The same angst that still tells me I am exceptional

Every time I sit down to write.

And those afternoon leaves still sway by my window,

Kissed by the sun.