Phantoms, like last breaths
Where your lungs used to be
Cascading, splinters of wispy smoke
Stretching the airy, yellowed sky of autumn
Like an oar through water
Mirrored purity and vanity
Rippling in the breeze, a sea of vibrant textures,
like a mismatched rug the crinkled falling sun
Lay down upon the land
Belly-up
A helicoptering of half-floating-half-falling leaves
To the pavement, wet with rain
A carpet for our children to walk on
