Tenth Movement

These are moments when I remember you the most,

when the sunrise reminds me of a rose;

my darling demons haunt me as if my past had many ghosts.;

there is a certain sharpness to the air;

the vines begin to look like hair.

 

Even asphalt turns to shades of green and gold,

reminiscent of your eyes—

right before the coating of the cold.

 

Remember me when you are old.

 

I hold you softly in my youth,

and loft whispers of partial truths

into the wind that moves in your direction.

 

Forgive my imperfections and anchor me

 

within the folds

                of your wrinkles as you age.

                With every Fall, anchor deeper.

 

Rooted in your mind or heart or neither,

I will always be your keeper.

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