What
          are we,

                       but
            dead
   and dying leaves.

                                                       Swimming back -
                                                       Yearning for the warmth again.
            Second year without the
                                                  Spring(s)
                                                                ­  In my heart.

Sister's turning. . .
T̶w̶e̶n̶t̶y̶,
More years ahead
Than
Behind; our bent hands

                                         Can write. . .
                                               Or scratch The
                                                                ­          tiniest .holes.
                                                         ­                 In our minds.
                            While m̶i̶s̶s̶i̶n̶g̶ a̶t̶o̶m̶s̶                                                 
     ­                                                             and stolen organs are
                                                                ­         Attempting to find that
                                                            ­             One perfect meaning
                                    That seems to be
                                                              ­           Right there.
                                                       ­                                           Off of the east coast,
                                                          ­   You know?
         Right out of reach.
                                   Beyond your misunderstanding and
                                        Way past the point of freezing.

But there is never
                        Any                                   turning                                      back.

We still   h
                   a
                     n
                        g
             On    by
                   a
             t
           w
           i
         g.

  Our last seed
Is                          out there,
      somewhere.

             You haven't lost it. . .
                                                   But,
The message is not what it means.

                                             I guess
                                                  That, that
                                                            ­is why

                                                            ­                                            We are
                                                             ­                                                        The dead
                                                          ­               and dying leaves.