For Memory
Our minds like leaves
Fall in brown and gold
Flickered green light
Before winds changed the old
Peel of skin
To dry lignin.
Thoughts sloughed and chafed
To hold a name in the safe
Crutch of a swaying branch;
The proper term
For things in the discourse of disciplines
Or a shifting season
That make the deep sap
Flows sluggish, and stop
The loquacious tongue.
Youth is past.
Memory is a leaf
It turns in the Fall.
Gravity touches everything with grief.
Copyright © L'Nass Shango | Year Posted 2012
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