Deciduous Memories | Teen Ink

Deciduous Memories

December 8, 2019
By zoeyfisher99_ GOLD, Hollywood, Florida
zoeyfisher99_ GOLD, Hollywood, Florida
11 articles 0 photos 2 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Be the change you want to see in the world"- Mahatma Ghandi

The leaves fell quickly this fall - 

everything we lost beneath the sycamore

on a November afternoon I remember 

little fingers intertwined 

and the rush of wind through my hair 

on a slide in a park 

many years ago. 

The leaves fell quickly this fall- 

like rain drops with a force 

and an anger and an urgency 

for time to pass 

And the colors falling from the sky 

reminded me of the finger paints 

and gummy bears 

staining my fingers 

many years ago.  

The leaves fell quickly this fall-

they can never be put back on the branches

exactly the same 

they will be gone for so long 

on the ground 

and I remember how we were always together 

but now we've fallen apart 

like a tree in November 

and I remember what family meant 

many years ago. 

The leaves fell quickly this fall- 

Forming piles on the ground

crunching beneath  my feet and 

fragile to the touch, 

the way a scornful word 

traverses thousands of miles 

of green hills and salty seas 

to bring us down. 

The leaves fell quickly this fall- 

too far to be picked back up again 

and too quickly to catch on their way down. 

Fall used to be pumpkin patches on the side of the highway 

as the cars whizzed by 

and trips to far away lands with crisp cold air 

and apples on trees too high for tiny arms to reach. 

But now fall is days locked up, alone 

and fingers typing endlessly on a worn out keyboard. 

The leaves fell quickly this fall- 

as we said goodbye to tables of four

and hello to quiet meals with nothing to say 

but the rote words of our weekday machinations. 

The leaves fell quickly this fall- 

leaving behind a grey horizon. 

Now I can only  see the colors 

and the tiny fingers 

and gummy bears 

and roadside pumpkin patches 

in the far corners of my memory- 

time past never to be grown again 

on the branches of our lives.

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