The sky leans heavy tonight,
a slate of stars refusing to sleep.
I pace waves in my mind—
thoughts churning like tides,
never retreating enough
to leave the shore bare
with quiet footsteps in the sand.

The moon drags its thin light
across the restless shoulders of night,
casting shadows that won’t settle.
And I think, maybe
some things aren’t meant to stop—
a river, a heart, or this relentless need
I have to keep moving.

I watch withered leaves fall—
deliberate, almost kind.
Each one drops gently
onto the waiting ground.
I think they’ve practiced this,
as each one helps me rehearse,
a goodbye I must say,
to those that need to hear this—
I can't last forever even if I try.

The wind softly urges me—
not to worry and trust the landing.
And when I do go—let them hear
the leaves rustling, not the cry
of a breaking tree.