The trees fall in the forest with an unheard crash.
The epileptic tech in the hospital
Has a fit of the falling sickness
Like Smerdyakov, down on the floor,
Drooling, while his legs and arms thrash.
She’s the first one on the scene,
Kneeling, quiet and calm, she takes his hand.
We should all awake from such chaos
To her almond-eyed serene.
It’s October and everything falls;
Empires, proud men, midnight drunks.
Everyone wants to see the changing leaves
Before it’s too late.
The leaves don’t make a fuss,
They escape like silent thieves,
Like someone trying to slip from a party unnoticed.
You can’t turn your head for an instant,
The branches are bare before you know it.
Winter then comes and the snow falls
And the browned leaves on the ground freeze
In a crusted thatched matting.
The falling never stops.
We never stop falling.
When we venture off the wooded trail,
Crunching across the quilting of dead leaves,
Hidden branches and holes lurk unseen.
I’ll reach for you when you stumble
And you’ll reach for me.
It’s always been better to fall together.
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