POETRY

She Sees the Leaves

Photo by Ave Calvar Martinez via Pexels

She’s talking about the leaves again.
Red ones over there, orange ones, yellow.
I’m trying to drive.
Soon enough they’ll fall,
And I won’t have to hear about the leaves
Until next year, when this will all begin again;
I’ll try to drive, and she’ll be next to me
Trying to cause an accident.

It will hurt her to hear this:
It gets old.
I am not one of those who cannot appreciate beauty,
But there is a time.
There is a place.

And I know for her the time is then;
The place is there,
And she sees the leaves.
She loves the leaves and I love her,
And I drive so she can see the leaves.