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