the note you leave behind

as i sit

at this old desk,

scarred

and faded where my elbows

and hands

have been

over time,

i write a note, a reminder

of what

needs

to be done.

details

following my demise.

i put the pen

down

and fold the note over.

the woods

outside

the window have turned

golden

and red,

a soft yellow.

once more,

the leaves are dying

in this autumn light,

but i don't mind.