twoblueviolets

Fall often 

Stains our world brown, 

Leaves the color 

Of an old ruddy gold, 

Their tips dry, 

Crinkling with the cold 

If I were dreaming,

would the cold and snow still bite my face

in the winter

when I went skiing?

If I were dreaming,

would the heat of June-July-August-now-October-too(?)

I turn away from them and gaze out the window.

The clouds gather in large gray clumps across the sky.

Painting everything below them in shades of gray.

My mind wanders to the only place I don’t ever want to go again.

“It's not all men”
They say 

And no maybe it's not

But if there's a shark

Deep in the water

Do you dive in and wait 

They all say they'd visit dinosaurs 

go back and dig for gold 

meet their great-great-great grandparents 

be around when electricity was discovered. 

When the question is asked