The Leaves Fell Like Rain That Was Dead Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Color these leaves anyways
They are already dead.
I saw them falling out your window,
But they did not distract me from the ways
You were lying,
How your body turned naturally to the way
My eyes shone on you,
As if you were my mother or just someone
With her head:
And he lay there against you like a leaning
Clock tower, and busy made you instead,
Made his time naked beside you;
I did not think to catch them as they
Were falling,
To stick in your mailbox like a hint,
But I left my breath blown on your window,
As your eyelids closed like a music box that is
Silent,
And the little girl inside it, what does she do
Once she is resting and quiet and put away again to
Bed;
I would have wished to have lain there beside her,
Or hung there like wire,
But I took to the train yard instead: and he lay there beside
You, and inside did guide you,
And the leaves fell like rain that was dead.