Forgotten Leaves

On a lonesome bench, he sits

As the last leaves snowflake from

The bare branches he finds himself under

Eyes, now hidden behind frames

He stares attentively while one spirals

As it gravitates to the green before him

He scans the carpet as he attempts to defragment

The fading puzzle pieces of his life

But they lay there, like the scattered memories he now hoards

The taste of lovers’ lips

The whistle of a whippoorwill

The sensation of toes buried in the sand

Where did life get to? He asks himself

Where are the missing pieces that fit the space between

My youth and this aching isolation?

Where are the little things that once filled this void?

The sea shells once collected or the smiles on strangers’ faces?

Where are the hands that I once shook or the verses once recited?

He sighs... as he laments decisions made and grudges kept

And as a rake sweeps away these forgotten leaves

Every rustle awakens within him a sense of anguish

He struggles as he clutches to his recollection and his sanity

But the few relics he clings onto are being pried away

By a merciless dementia whose zeal he cannot match

And in the wake of his final battle, he raises his brow

Stares at the naked tree that towers above him

And weeps as he accepts defeat

So, as he faces his darkest moment, sitting on that bench

He closes his eyes, takes one last breath, and falls...

The final leaf... forgotten

© José V. Guerra Awe