Pieces of October leaves struggle as they hang outside my window
As if Halloween had ****** all their life away.
A sip of coffee
A shock of caffeine
A whiff of air
None could bring them back to life
Even in the realm of my imagination.
Cars pull in between the  gaps of thin whites,
Painted white lines, so faint,
As if they had been smothered by history
The dust on the window panes
They don't seem to bother me
They don't make a difference
No, not one bit
The world in all its effort to reform
Its endeavor to change to that which is contrary to itself
To me is simply nothing
And will be nothing
A dull block of clay will never acquire the perfect shape it desires
Just as a myriad of dying October leaves will not cease to be abandoned by its branches.
My coffee is stale.