Change
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
-David Bowie
piercing morning winds threaten
to strip the trees of their
orange, golden and crimson gowns;
the resilient foliage
gripping tightly to the branches,
determined to stay tethered
and ablaze for another day.
over coffee I look into my
daughter’s hazel eyes,
her once determined gaze
lacks purpose, motivation
fear of failure and exhaustion
inhabit her pale, freckled face.
like the autumn leaves,
she is not ready to let go.
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