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The First Semester

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"It's so good to hear your voice"
you say.
Inches and inches of
airwaves.
The sun beats down on me
through
millions and millions of leaves.
Autumn is dripping from the clouds.
This separation
stings.
Nipping at my fingertips.
Making me dream
of being home.
Making me wish
that I was staring through
your windows.
Yet into this bucket
inside of my chest,
autumn drips.
"It's so good to hear your voice"
you say.
Echoing over
miles and miles
that keep you from me.
The dripping slows
as I hit
crazy.



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