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.