Maybe it’s because

a roomate is having me leave;

maybe it’s because the changes in my body;

in any case, there are so many words I can’t retrieve.

Like a family of fallen leaves

scattered upon the wind,

I can’t keep track of them

and find the right blend.

The leaves, they are

love letters from God

and i’m in the middle of a park

chasing after them, trying to prod.

I get a few in my arms

then the wind picks up

and the slip away

quiet as forgotten memory.

Nature is made of words,

at least, it is for me-

but they have lost all order

and scatter indiscriminately.

For now, I am in the park

trying to find my life.

All the words have been written,

but putting them together

is eating soup with a knife.