Isi Gibson

Fall had come, and close to its end, it approached. The air became brisk, with winter awaiting in the future, and as a girl wandered down the sidewalk, autumn's old skin shifted through the air above her maple hair.

I am Rush. 

Nothing is worth my

‘No time.’

So hurry now to

Catch my 

Running storyline.

Take my hand, 

And let your other hold on to a kite that is a

Shooting Star.

The harvest moon will rise above us,

as we fly,

The light from the bulb,

All of a sudden gone,

Now rush to find light,

As we stumble,

Waiting for the dawn.

Because that is love,

when my beaten, wrinkled skin is still caressed by you, 

and your gray smoky hair is my loving obsession. 

My treasure is my eyes, 

The colors they create,

The color they are, 

Gray husky and slate. 

My treasure is not captive,