The Blink In The Leaves

Florida killed you in captivity —
slowly, quietly, like sunlight pressing down too long.
It stole the part of you that belonged to Wisconsin —
the falls burning with color,
the bluffs smoldering at dusk,
the wind that carried the scent of endings.

I thought my love could be enough,
that warmth might save what cold once made you love.
But now I see you everywhere —
in the green palms you despised,
their fronds trembling in a light that never fades,
blinking like the ghosts of autumn leaves.

You hated how everything here stayed alive too long.
How nothing turned.
How nothing fell.

And now, even the trees refuse to let you go.

<3 M.