Love is sparse, the last lingering leaf falls
on frozen ground, the last worm wrestles
an apple clinging on.
Love is sparse, the firstborn contemplates
the subsequentโs success at soaring
falls like wet snow on wet snow.
Love is sparse, decades of lost embrace
a starved silent daze throws the mind
into deadly deliberation and doubt.
Love is sparse, the fall of fall
leaves piles of leafs fit for worms
fit for worms wrestling.
Love is sparse, the last worm wrestles
an apple clinging the dying branch
of summer.
Love is sparse in this world
where snow no longer falls
โ to embrace us.
