The annual
ambuscade of leaves occurred.
Nothing you
could do to escape debacle.
You dropped the
delusional armor of the sane--
Retreat,
regroup, remake, regret, retry.
You hid your
face while the uncompleted pranced,
The old of old,
embracer of contenders,
The
never-present, uncontested other.
You released
your self, dogface under siege,
To make mute
payment to such Lastingness,
When Autumn,
wafting shots, fell powerless,
Beholden, like
you, and ludicrously armed.
