fall vapor catches and thaws the last standing rose;
on dew turning into a frost greeting –
caught in my last breath of summer,
i linger in between that space
understanding the rose —seen
slipping gracefully into winter.
oh, how could i have embraced you?
knowing, i must let you go!
with that said, i sigh a good-bye
with ego and pride;
windy hair and your bright blue eyes.
Romeo, Juliet, and those perfect Bob Dylan lines
that created a pause in time to hear the tide
of changing times.
now, i also must go. but, instead of leading
—i must follow the petals fall.