He walked beneath all the leaves, all half-soaked from the rain,

Wintering all his summer’s day and carrying his pain.

Him with his glass of wine and her with her hopes for life.

She with her glass of wine and he with a broken knife,

He with so many words to say and nothing understood,

Her hearing the worst of it and not finding anything good.

It was just they two and everyone they know sailing the unfortunate sea

Hopping on islands to weather it, with not a care if it’s just he and she.

Storms hit hard with the windows up, wet as the ocean, and ruined inside

Nothing he tried could fix the broken things and the joy in the lane all died.

The house stands alone, hollow as a word, nothing but voices in his  mind

Call me back to where I can’t go in search of things I can’t find.

Time takes these things away and hides them in the years,

Only to have them washed away and found in pools of tears.