I must confess that this is my first time
seeing the leaves change in fall.
I laid on my back
under a rather large tree today,
and what a marvel it was.
He laid next to me,
yet was overly consumed
by the fact that he might get dirt in his eye.
For me, it was a much
greater feeling.
I stared in amazement
at the oranges leaves
and contrasting blue sky.
It's funny how a moment like that
could make me realize how wrong
we are for each other.
While I was busy enjoying
the feeling of the cool ground
that was my matress
and staring up at the leaves until they lost
their definition and blurred together,
he only seemed to wiggle and squirm,
as if he was annoyed or embarassed
of committing such a childish act.
Today, I learned the reason
why he tells me that I'm immature.
It's because I am an artist,
I see beauty in everything.
I am a poet
who reads more than just words.
I find joy in taking
the time to smell the roses -
to be amused by the little things.
And he has only found
a path by following
the others.