Out of the Sky
The leaves outside aren’t
falling any longer, but they
still find their way onto my
back porch.
You are not
here any longer, but you
still sneak your way into
my mind every day.
Time moves on and it
doesn’t stop.
It leaves all of the stragglers -- the
people who want to
hold onto the
past --
behind.
I have been
left behind.
This poem is about:
Me