There is a patch of pavement
between two main roads
behind the houses
that no body knows.
The sidewalk there is wet and gray
but on either side of it
is a sea of fire and light.
The leaves, like a border
of gilded grass and vine,
dance to a melancholy wind,
licking each other.
The wind is like a soft aria
prompting them to make
gentle love.
The dew of previous rain
shines off of them
making them sparkle in
their movement.
Some even stray when the wind
picks them up.
Forgetting their lovers
to find adventure.
But I cannot help but step
on them, the rain a sticky adhesive
to the pavement.
As I leave the sea behind,
lit