The air smelled deeply of burning leaves and thin, misty fog.
She walked, alone.
Raindrops landed on her cheek, like long-awaited kisses.
The burning embers of days passed and lost memories shrouded her, like a thick wool blanket.
Muted grey light draped everything in shadows---even the trees looked darker, sadder, more somber.
Darkness descended, an ode to Pluto, the lord of the underworld.
Trees spilled their leaves, a Scorpionic striptease of ruby-tinged secrets.
One lone maple leaf stuck to her boot, like a red badge of honor to remind her
That this moment, so precious, so hearbreakingly imperfect
Would never come again.
So she stayed and paused and lingered
And tasted this moment like a tiny raindrop on her tongue
Until it slipped away.
Then she shed a single tear into the flowing river
And it became this poem,
A salty pearl of raw words
For all to see.
In that moment, she knew that being present
Hurts like hell.
It’s easier to be asleep and let moments pass like ships in the night
But after too much junk food, a heart craves something real
A heart wishes to drop the grand acts and bare it all.
This moment was her everything
Her reminder to live with quiet boldness and buck-naked vulnerability.
Even though it had already slipped away,
This moment would forever echo through her bones
Like the soft pitter-patter