Amber veins of brittle stem

spread thinly through my body,

serving as a fragile skeleton

to structure my scarlet paper skin

as I am tos't by warm soft wind.

 

To say I thought,

would be at fault,

rather,

my mind

drifted

on the breeze.

 

One second falling

Then suddenly

lifted,

falling,

lifted.

 

Did I once sit, green and new,

on my father's arm?

 

Was I once gloss and supple?

 

Was the air once warm?

 

My thoughts fall again,

and all that matters now

is twirling, all stately and slow

in the waltz of falling down.