too much to read,

much too much to read


I watch the leaves

falling from the trees


like words from the pages

of books the sun has written


I, too, am a book

that the sun has written


winter will be soon

and white and cold


I’ve lost track of what

I once may have known


I’m like that oak

becoming naked


I’ve lost track of most

of my questions


they’ve fallen from me

like leaves from a tree


I keep on reading

my way beyond me


I am the bare bones

of who I once was

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