Old feelings float in
on the rustling leaves,
changing my patterns of thought.
My pen falls to my paper.
My eyes close, a faint smile comes.
I tip my head to the sounds,
and drift away to the past.

No crafty prose will be written tonight,
no insightful haiku.
Only a simple little poem
about memories of lost love
that ride the currents of the
night's gentle breeze.