The Leaves Are Turning

I'm melting crayons in all
colors to add shades of interest,
while the orbs that were your eyes flow
mindlessly from beneath my pen.
In the margins, you stare at me,
beckoning with
a crooked finger that I cannot grasp, only sketch, one more time.

I can never get your irises quite right;
the complexity of
your smile is impossible to put into the lines that grow roots in my mind.
Words are no better;
the color you made my cheeks
turn with an offhand glance and a word and a smirk is - indescribable.

I'd run from the hastily scribbled words
and smudged portraits of nothings, but my fingertips are soaked with
them and washing won't help,
no matter how many times I scrub with dewdrops and bumble-bees' wings.

-

The leaves are turning emerald again.
I wish you could be here to paint them with me.

This is amazing.

I'd run from the hastily scribbled words
and smudged portraits of nothings

Lovely. ^^

Thank you! :]
That's one of my favorite lines too.

Meep. x3 Awesome job, Ed.

That was so pleasant to read. ^.^ I love interesting poems such as this one.

Thankyouuu! :]

Great job, Harmony!!! I love this!!