Disappearing Fingerprints
A poem on changing seasons

Change is in the air like a spiral of mosquitoes because her blood is sweet, her smell is sweet but not her disposition, no
Change is in the air like a small dust storm whipping up a frenzy of fall leaves, yellow, gold, yellow-gold and brown cold happiness, cold and in a cup
Change is in the air you breathe different sometimes you are plagued with memories, some of which have not happened yet history stretches until it occupies more time than it should
Change is in the air like change never could time slips by, the knot in your chest still surprises you
Change is in the air goodbye is a word flatter than it should be let’s replace tears with wine, and pretend we are grown-ups now, shall we because my fingerprints, they won’t last till tomorrow.






