Through jaded eyes

the leaves wither

in elegant colors

along the sidewalks

of a neighborhood

we all remember

from somewhere

in our childhood

and we are

distracted

by the

beauty of change

when we know

it should be us

that makes

a change.

|

we crunch leaves

beneath our sneakers

because the sound

satisfies us

but we forget

there was once a life

inside.

|

behind the windows

of houses

with yellow porch lights

we dust off

our flannels

and pull

wool blankets

from our closets

and we ignore

that everything has

a shelf life.

|

on front porches

with creaking

wooden steps,

we carve

smiles

into pumpkins

because

we've forgotten

how to wear

our own.

|

we run through

corn mazes

where the stalks

grow taller

than our heads

when we

don't even know

how to

lead our lives

in the right

direction.

|

we wander

through pumpkin patches

with mud

on our sneakers

searching for

the perfect one

because it

reminds us of

someone we

thought was.

|

we sip

apple cider

from paper cups

beside roadside stands

to warm

our insides

because the hands

that once

kept us warm

are somewhere

unreachable.

|

we watch

the sun recede

earlier each night

and complain about

losing daylight

as though

we don't already

squander

every day.

|

we lose ourselves

in the aroma

of firewood

because we

love

the smell of things

that cannot

be put

back together.

|

we gather

around bonfires

in backyards

where folding chairs

sink into the grass

and watch the flames

consume the wood

the way

the absence

of someone

consumes us.

|

we hang ghosts

from branches

while the wind

animates them

and we pretend

to be frightened

by death

when it's really

living that

haunts us.

|

we fill

our baskets

with apples

from orchards

that learned to let go

while we

spend our lives

holding on.

|

we dress

as strangers

on halloween

and celebrate

the freedom

of being someone else

without admitting

we don't

even recognize

ourselves.

|

we take

pictures of

trees at

their most beautiful

beneath skies

the color

of vintage denim

but never think

to photograph

them when

they are ordinary.

|

we listen

to rain patter

the sidewalks

and wind

rattle

the windows

and mistake

its persistence

for longing

because we

know what

it's like

when nobody answers.

|

we watch

the last leaves

release themselves

from the branches

that held them

all summer

and call it

the natural order of things

but when someone

we love

does the same

we call it

abandonment.

|

when the

month ends

we sweep

our front porches,

put away

our decorations,

and turn our

calendars

forward

ready for

the next thing.

|

somewhere

a child

is counting

the days

until

the next halloween,

an old man

is sitting

in his rocking chair

not knowing

this is

his last october,

and here i am

grieving

the only one

i ever got to

spend with you.