Its cliche how my mind is pulled
Towards an infinite ripple of you
Within each leaf, tangle, and stain
Its you, its you
Its you!
How much in common you have with a leaf
They fall
I fall
we both trip and I land in a universe in which
The clouds part, gray—they fall and all of a sudden
My cotton clothes fall off me
I blush at my own reflection,
Is this what you saw?