Ballad of the Wind

The wind and the apple

Among autumn leaves
rustling in thick frenzy,
the wind sees the apple
and rises
with a celestial song.

                    "Rosy lush lips touching fingertips
                    on emerald green the chosen palette
                    come gently sway, to mark the moment,
                    with luxury of weightlessness."

Shiny, untouched,
a pigment of impetuous joy,
awakening red, delicious,
floating to the wind's tune,
welcoming,
the conceit of choice.

                    "Rosy lush lips touching fingertips
                    on emerald green the chosen palette
                    you gently fell, to mark the moment;
                    did you think the wind would catch you?

                    The color of dreams fading away,
                    when grass kneels to cushion the fall
                    to miss the harvest in a rotten mush,
                    but upon reflection, it's worth it all.

                    More vital than life is
                                       the vanity of a kiss,
                    if beauty is madness
                                       when the wind blows."