Shifting.

You search all your life for the appropriate roots
And you spend days longing in the wake of oceans
And in the depths of sands
And you stare longingly out of your teenaged bedroom window
And trace your fingers in the plastic tablecloth
And watch another bouquet of flowers pass away quietly on your kitchen table

Long, slanting lines of sun accompany the Autumn.
Your journal lays bare on the bookshelf with empty pages of things you couldn't find the time to fill up and you hear the pot simmer and the snapping of new beans
And maybe it's only the season,
But something is changing.