Leaves of gold and yellow,
An evening sky of red;
A whisper of silver,
A renegade cloud overhead. 

Giggles from youngsters
playing down the alley are
Almost loud enough to
Extinguish my dread. 

My head is crowded
With voices fluttering
Like a gaggle of geese
Seeming to go nowhere.

Alone. That’s me.
Just a renegade cloud,
A wisp of nothing that
Never becomes something. 

© 2020 Steven Barto