Walking home
My foot crushes a dead leaf crunching,
Wind whispers between my legs and pants in my ear.
The chill chides my choice of one shirt rippling?
Dreaming of warmth walking home,
Shaking at the thought, shivering at the cold
Walking home.
Sweet visual
Sweet visual, you know not the difference in
Right and wrong
Only coating the bass and treble with pulsating rhythms
You do not know the mid-tone.
Like an infant’s response to warmth.