Poetry

Leaves glided from the trees towards the pavement like an artist’s brush  preparing to paint a blank canvas. Each leaf was embarking on an individual journey, falling towards a common cause of creating a much larger picture. As the crosswalk was painted with the colors of autumn, I too fell towards a journey of my own, a journey that would create a much larger picture in my life, a journey that would paint the portrait of our love. A handful of seasons passed before a higher authority made the first move. You were unimpressed,  unenthusiastic, and demurring while I was far from that. I tried searching for you, trying to find whatever was there, but I couldn’t see you, I couldn’t find you. You were invisible. But then you found me. You started painting our picture, only using bright colors and a smile. You began creating the gorgeous landscape that was our life. And it looked beautiful. Unfortunately I left. I left as a young man who was as reluctant as you were when you were first forced into a new life. You told me to take our painting, and I promised to have it finished when I returned. I promised to have it looking better, to have it more colorful, and to have it full of everlasting memories. And it was a promise I would take to my grave. But it has been many seasons. A season I remember only by the unique masterpieces that were freshly painted on the pavement. A season that once inspired me to do so much, now left me discouraged and doing so little. The leaves were no longer gliding into happiness, but were dancing into darkness. Dancing towards a darker picture, one that was far from its original image of merriment and content. Please watch as I finish my portrait of despair.