willow trees sway as the wind
howls through its lanky branches; it reminds me of a
yo-yo being tossed up and down.

colors blend together on the horizon
as a fading sun sets into a
never-ending sky;
the night begins.

yelling children run around
outside, their spirits high even
under a heavy rainstorm.

snowflakes whisper down from grey clouds,
each individual crystal uniquely
extravagant as the breeze carries them to the ground.

tumbleweeds are thrown across golden
hills, rolling for miles until they find
a home, because like us,
they just want to belong somewhere.

i love filling empty pages with words.

lattes steam from cardboard cups,
omitting a delicious scent of
vanilla and dark coffee that
engulfs the city's nostrils.

you may have not decoded it, but if you read this
once more, could you
understand what my poem is really about?