Beanies and Fall Leaves

Coffees Stir, Colors Fade

Or become more brilliant

Jackets slough, Fires warm

Or fade into dying dusks

Pies roast, Apples bake

Or fall forgotten to the ground

Jerseys stain, Bleachers roar

Or go empty and frigid

Trees trim, Stockings stuff

Or stay packed in little boxes

Years fade, Tomorrows bloom

Or stay stagnantly the same

Beanies warm, Leaves fall

Or none of this is happening

The Hour, It Ticks

Sliding out from under your covers
Slipping your cold, anxious feet the floor
Dreams of your  yesteryear wane and subside
Something felt, long forgotten before
And then you know; the hour, It ticks


It runs faster now than back then
Painfully you are aware of a new race
Mixed with old emotions are new fears
What if, Why now, and How do you get there
No matter these answers; the hour, It ticks


All day spent in the whims of another fancy
Wondering if you've gone mad, just yet
Mutuality is hard to discern across a globe
Surely not here, In this place of so recent warmth
But the clock reminds you; the hour, It ticks

What chess piece saunters the new square
Removing its opponents by mere girth
Air trapped in lungs, like six years or more
Release is a word with which you can't relate
Waiting is no luxury you have; The hour, It ticks

Fallen sand castles are seldom restored
But you're reminded of an easterly wind
Blowing the sand all about your tired feet
And underneath the buff, stands victory
But the glass empties fast; For the hour, It ticks