even exceptions to the rule
break the paradigm
of their im perfection
seemingly im possible
at the time
wait for the but
the except
wait for it to fall
as the autumn leaves
still green, clinging,
still receiving the nourishment they need
still strong, then cut – jettisoned
tossed, ripped in the wind
painted glory, faded and
quickly burnt to crisps
as the feelings
of new love
blossom and fold
as midnight candy
opens at night
honeyed fragrance satisfies space
a gift for senses, too soon to pass
don’t get attached
and you might be alright —
except
The Halfwit Writer 