My Book Poem by chris schwartz

The leaves fell from the trees
A little faster, this year
Their brilliance escaped
My eyes,
While I wandered
To a different place
That seemed more important.
The red, yellow and orange
That I look forward to
Fell from the sky,
And the snow began to fall.
Deep in the winter,
I started to think
Of the yellow sofa
And the green curtains
In the house
Built by my parents
With love,
With strength,
With wanting,
And all of a sudden
The beauty of the leaves falling
Made perfect sense.
I had been longing for the past,
When the future
Made no sense.
And I realized,
That, though the landscape
Of my life may change,
It is up to me
To seize each and every season
Loving its color
And learning from
The winds
That blow me into
A new chapter.
It is, after all,
My book,
As unique as time itself.
There is no reason
Not to write it
Exactly as I choose.