How hard it is to understand you.
Your words dance and twirl,
like leaves before an autumn breeze.
I chase after them,
scooping up huge armfuls,
but they slip away,
tossed eternally upon the wind.
I continue my useless pursuit,
desperate to touch them,
to smell them,
to taste all their brilliant colors.
It is a drama of folly,
pursued to the point of pointlessness,
and like a fool I follow.