Helpless as leaves in the wind,
like tiny dancers adorned in orange and red,
pirouetting across the fiery horizon
of late September,
I am at your mercy now.
Floating above and skipping, briefly,
from ground to sky
to ground again.
A simple, dying thing brought to life once more,
reanimated by the gentle push and pull of you.
I am swept along a path I could only dream of
while clinging to the branches of trees
that were ready to let go
long before I was.
Your restlessness was my freedom.
How long will I be lost in you, happy and alive?
Twirling across these streets and rooftops,
each of us breathing new life into the other,
though, perhaps, in different ways.
One lifetime seems much to short a journey.