Standing tall, surely unsure.
Captivated by the melody and accompanied by the memory.
"You don't need to look at the floor."
With my traveler's lid.
With my dirty boots.
With the chill of the air.
Wondering if the turning of the leaves brings a change in heart,
Or a change in mind.
He is here.
Where is his heart today?
I do care, I believe.
Waiting for age; how I desire it's thrills.
Leaving this moment I know I'll soon seek to touch once more,
I walk around with eyes strictly peripheral.