Autumn leaves sitting under the tree; out of season.
Until the wind blows them through the Springtime,
Onto the pathway and up the ramp…
…to be rustled and crackled under the feet of flirting teens.
I would love to be moved by God so that my sole purpose was…
…to add texture to the lives of those around me.
And to point them back to God.
It's been a while since I last wrote a poem, and I thought it would be hard, but this one seemed to just fall out of me. Not much editing has gone into this one, but I like it all the same.