Sunday, January 17

This is how I want to remember you,
under the yellow and red trees
leaves falling as you smile
looking at the low clouds like there's
a magical fire
rolling in the pine trees.

And then we drive down the road
back to the city.
I keep my eyes closed, never wanting
to see the dips and turns as we get too close
to the mountain.
But, I can't close them always
or I'll miss it all.
You say it's like we're in those clouds now, and that's when
I want to stop, pull over and and find a backyard to stay amongst the land.

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