Autumn on the page,
or maybe just lines and colors,
randomly selected,
the story never told.
landscape from where I was born,
calls me back to home and kin,
lost in the modern world,
I can't only sit and remember,
home and the bad decisions made.
buildings touch the sky,
people akin to ants,
scurry every which way,
life in the city,
alive and vibrant,
just not for me.