Winter
The leaves thaat used to crunch red
Have faded to powdery moth wings-
Decomposing against the edge of the sidewalk.
I whisk them up from their open caskets
With the toe of my shoe as I walk;
To later spread them into the carpet.
When once I'd trace their veins to frail corners
Now, I step on their wilted bones.
This poem is about:
Me
Our world