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I remember why I fell in love.

The autumn leaves lining the road,

The cool breeze,

The sun.

I look around at the familiar places,

Wanting to stay forever,

But knowing that could never be.

I know that I need to leave,

For it is changing quickly.

If my love were to stay,

I would need to live with the memories,

Not the reality.

My family greets me warmly,

But the house feels foreign.

I belong with them,

But not like before.

The clean floors,

The polished furniture,

Much like the new buildings,

And newly paved roads,

Are not what I remember.

I remember the beat up businesses,

Shoes and dust lining the floor and crevices,

I fell in love.

Though I still am in love,

It is with the past.

And I remember why I left.

To Both My Margarets

You both are mighty and strong

With different weapons,

You conquer the foe.

One with the blade,

The other with a mothers force.

You both have a will of iron,

With kindness and understanding

You guide me to the right path.

With wisdom and knowledge

You explain the reasons why.

Warriors and teachers

Making sure I don’t screw up.

I owe you both so much,

Allowing me the freedom of choice,

But giving me the consequence of each.

I love you both,

Without you I wouldn’t have made it.

God I Need a Life

Your perfect curves astound me.

Your rosy tinge,

Your sweet smell,

My mouth waters at the thought.

Your sweet juices,

You’re dripping goodness,

Your fair skin

Oh apple how I adore you.

It’s a shame you don’t last.

Even though you get stuck in my retainers,

I will devour what I can of you.

Oh apple I love you.

Don't Get In My Way

Happy and smiling

Not a care in the world.

Sad and depressed,

Why can’t life be better?

Stressed and freaked,

How will I ever succeed?

Paranoid and tense,

I know they all hate me.

Realization dawns,

And I take my medicine.

PMS is a bitch.

The Art of Writing

Waiting for the muse,

The spark of interest,

The magical thought,

Fusing my incoherencies into one.

Wanting to get this done,

To have it finished,

Out of the way.

The damn paper is giving me a headache,

Not understanding the subject,

Understanding the topic.

As I should be writing the blasted essay,

I’m writing this piece of boredom.

For the muse has yet to visit,

Her grace escaping,

My thoughts wandering.

I still have a few days.