>Leaves (for N.) by Leo Campos (10/20/10)

Autumn rain scribbles at my window
“Write this to her”

Dry yellow leaves
Across the parking lot
Scratching their way to winter

Better to finish as ashes of a fire
Than dust. Even when dead
The memory of the desire
(Which burned) can become the next flame’s bed

The leaf whispers of love
To a sun-loving tree
As the wind takes it away


About spaceloom

An urban monk, and an experienced spiritual director with a Masters in Psychology. Married with two children. Want to know me better? Read my thoughts.
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