color
every time i see you,
your hair is a different color
a soft brown morphs to
the red you always wished you had
you spend all year stuck in
autumn, a constant state of
change, a tree with perpetually
turning leaves
your voice, though, brushes past warm
when you sing,
all the last hints of summer
collected together, melted into
dark amber honey
a few deep green leaves,
one last walk along dusty roads,
a wooden playground still
warmed by the afternoon sun
but cooler weather always creeps up,
without fail,
and your hair is suddenly the same black as
the clear night that folds itself over your house,
your eyes change from pale, new leaves
to an eerie green sky illuminated by
snow lightening,
your voice freezes thick in your
throat, lays dormant until
spring