a leaf sways down the strings,
gently it is comforted,
a small pushy laugh it gives;

I picked up a little more,
this leaf, designed to convince me,
it was a performance so kind,
I'm not going home feeling empty;

sometimes it takes me,
not just the right side of course;
I'm sorry for writing this poem,
my only freedom of movement;

the truth about the last page is happiness,

I've been here since you
were in my pocket,
I have a thousand words of wisdom,
they'll probably just go with you;

spiraling down like cannons,
all the time I love you,
the start and end of musical instruments,
blasting away the street view of space;

as confused birds clothe the sky,
this leaf breaks down,
like confetti, my confidence falls;

still, gently it is comforted;

art of my life,
I'm at my place by the waters,
ripple through the truth,
bring it up to the street;

a little while more,
and we'll all be set free...