My leaves are falling away too.
I’m defoliating.
Not just losing the keys,
but the will to please.
Thankfully
its fallen away.
 
My pride’s gone,
the need to adorn
with silver and gold.
Things seemed to fold,
and drop,
till all I want today
is today,
to read but only
one or two leaves.
 
The world
lies at my feet,
déshabillé,
the future piling up,
the past complete.
I’ve detached the alarm.
There’s not much left.
 
The vanity mirror
reflects only the garden
where yellow leaves
fall
til the blue sky
empties
to nothing
but a wisp of cloud.​

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