central park

i took the long
way, cutting through
central park, it was
early fall, and the
leaves had turned to
fire. i could feel
the new cold of winter
in my lungs, bright
with the pain of my
run, and of you, what we
had become, the summer
romance turned so soon,
and what little there
was left to say, or
show, or even kiss.
all of this, like leaves
had fallen, shaken from
the dark thin branches
of the park, where we
had met in the bloom
of promise and sun.
there was no need to
hurry, and yet i did.