golden tinged with age
they fall like raindrops
onto the street
a carpet of conformity
a song for the season
i remember that day
the tiny yellow bus
your spirally hair
and the leaves leaves leaves
circling a halo of beauty
that we couldn’t capture then
nor now

i want to gather my golden raindrops
be fifteen again
when I could suck in
the marrow of life with no tomorrow

instead it is a passing moment
a portion of a chaotic drive
the street littered
with the beauty you saw better than me
the pain poking out
in mini tornadoes of silent sound
a day i will remember
a day i will forget.