The itching feeling
The need to let go
The need to feel this
The need to fix things
To give life all that I have left
The larch is dying, as a perfect version of itself
Haven't seen another like it, haven't even tried
I want the same thing for my friends, myself, my family
And I want to feel that I'm along for the ride
That is my purpose
That is my North Star
That is my echo
That is my reason
And I ask myself, how could I ever forget?
The chilly evenings