outside her window stood a yellow tree.
half of its color grasped the branches; the other half was strewn or drifting down.
she watched, her mind full of wishes. and non-wishes.
a breeze passed by.
she watched some color stubbornly clutch to limbs. some swirl. some dance away.
oh, how some wishes stubbornly stay and refuse to be loosed.
but some: well… they ripen; evolve into regrets. they float off and create piles of discarded dream things.
eventually, breezes come and they are carried off.
some people appreciate the colors as they flutter by. they smile at them. grab at them. analyze their vibrancy before tossing them aside again.
others don’t even notice until they hear crunching under their feet– nothing left. brittle bits of trodden non-color. shoe-crushed dream dust.
she pushed open the pane and the fall air swept in. cool. fresh.
nostalgia. change.
she wanted the color to stay. for the season to slow. for the leaves to remain.
she turned her back to the breeze as she bent to make her bed.
some color drifted in.
for outside her window stood a yellow tree.