The falling leaves whisper farewell as the cool wind whistles them away to Neverland,
while biting at my bare toes beginning to
bury themselves in the browning Bermuda.

I envy them their journey, the excitement
of the unexplored and unknown spinning imaginary fantasies that entertain
in the desire they create even though
the cruel reality will never surmount or satisfy, just as the infiltration of infused
pumpkin spice into all that is surrounds me.

As if the idea of acquiring some perfectly crafted, though ultimately unattainable,
concoction of falsity begins a quest
that will unquestionably distract me
from the natural process of decay before me which would in turn somehow
denounce the inevitability of my own demise hence continuing my monetary contribution
in an attempt to conquer my desire
for some confection-able creation
and simply continue the cycle of
ingrained consumerism.
© Buffy Lee