Brisk air chills My exposed face. I’m stuck wondering If I can’t sleep, And I can’t eat, How can I do anything? Running back home, I can only wonder How people just Exist in This purgatory.
I arrive back home. I’m anxious for oatmeal, Hot coffee, And a tissue For my nose, runny From the chilly air. I appreciate Both sides of the walls, Especially as winter Quickly approaches.
I didn’t notice until now That every exhale Puts a mist in front Of my face That I just realized feels Chilled. The mist is white, Like innocence. The mist dissipates. I should’ve worn a hat.
I come across the meadow On the right, The early sun allowed to shine On the trees on the left side Of the road. The greens, yellows, oranges, Even some reds Light up like fireworks. I can’t help but feel excited When I step on the fallen leaves And hear the crunch.
There’s the soft step of my left foot Hitting the ground without a sound. Then there’s the violent slapping Of my right foot With it’s dead nerves. The juxtaposition fits perfectly.