I find myself leaving a trail of opinions

like leaves turned gold that have fallen

one after the other, a shower of them

letting go with almost no resistance

making a pattern against the flat ground

I talk more with others than I used to

some leaves just fly straight off and land…others swirl

bounce off other leaves                summersault away

blow skyward        travel long distances          vanish

But I know they will at some point subside

succumb to earth, decompose away

from their lofty impressions first made

Not like when young with those green thoughts

new sprouts ideas not fully formed

fleeting thoughts I kept to myself

But they too are now gone

Now, the way I see it

I know I cannot keep everything

I know I will not keep even what I love

I best to let go and so

it goes like that

with many things

leaving