In the warm glow of the candlelight, as we sit hand in hand;
It is clear, as daylight, that there is no connection.
What do your bright eyes see?
Though open wide, they do not appear to see me.
We both are trying hard, making faces
How comic would it look if we changed places?
Cast off, as the blood red color fades
Blown by a cool breeze, the leaf comes to rest far from the tree.
© photo and words by Pamela Ferris-Olson
March 16, 2014