These are the days of skies that drift
Down to hug the canopies and lap softly at the hills.

These are the days of rain that flies,
Droplets suspended in the air that burst as stolen kisses against passing cheeks.

These are the days of flaming trees,
Fire that courses through branches to turn leaves into flickering embers.

These are the days of stillness,
A world holding it's breath, quivering with each and every heart beat.

These are the days of lingering dusk,
Cloying so thickly it can be sliced with a cry.

These are the days.
Autumn's days.

My days.

It looks like we must say goodbye to the restless nights and the rebellion I grew so fond of.
I must gain a sense of composure and come to grips with what's ahead, I guess.
It's hard to move on after all that has happened.
It's hard to move on, at all.
So Summer, do you think of me when the nights turn cold and your brain wonders into the dark places of your mind?
Or am I tucked away somewhere far, never to come back around until next year?
Because I think about you all of the time.
About your warm embrace,
Your bright eyes,
And most importantly your smile.
But I smell change in the air, now,
And there's no reversing time.
I can sense you trying to stay.
You even cried today.
But Summer, it's time to move on.
So let's pack up our things,
Say our goodbyes,
And keep our memories on a shelf somewhere.
Let's let them collect dust,
Let our bicycles rust,
And pick up the pieces again
On a cold evening
When I miss your smell
Will you remember me?

She'd started watching 1950's informational videos.
You were accepted for being outside the box
And she was everything except in it.
Class president kids used to be reviled
Elections were exciting, polls came in,
And now... now what was it?
Something she should be ashamed of.
Because she cannot dance in a short skirt in front of a crowd
But instead because she plays the music
For the girls in the short skirts
Band uniforms like shells she can hide inside
Because while it's not something the other kids love,
It's what she loves.
Tennis dresses like skin without makeup
Student council shirts that finally fit,
That she feels like she can finally fill out
Unlike the jeans that she can't.
Golf jersey tossed aside, brushes and pencils picked up
Volunteer work piled in
Piling into the plays and new experiences
And acceleration, constant growing,
Growing out of shells that she used to love
And gaining skins that she loves even more
Looking back and seeing that the girls in short skirts
On the sidelines, on the gym floors,
Had not shed anything yet
Had not grown.
They were walking, she was running
Toward the end of high school, toward a goal,
To see how high in the sky they could get,
To see how high in confidence and compassion she could reach
They shed clothes, she shed skin and shells
They were permanent, fearing change
She was evolving, embracing it.

My world revolves around Facebook
All I seem to do
Is see what other people do

People who aren't in a rut
Feeling trapped
Or alone

It seems it's taken me 9 months to learn
But now I know, question is
What the hell do I do...

Salty sweat oozes
Bright red Gulmohurs in bloom
Sweet juicy melons

Cool misty rain
Velvety green blades
Bye bye heat

Dark clouds amass
A shroud of fog over hills
Stillness, the skies weep

though equipped with
an open heart and
pursuing mind
we still struggle to find the time
before we knew that
these striking hues
only made us blind.
to when white teeth glistened
through genuine grins
and whole, hearty chuckles
instead of only imprinting lines.

i can feel the change
surging through my bones.
a sharp, electric current
igniting and destroying
sour cells and lies
(apathy is not strength).
igniting and creating
new creeds and new bones
that can withstand the occasional
jolts and grits.

though a remedial renewal
of soul came through,
seeing the change and
being the change
will not come quite as easy.