I saw only the leaf as it swam through the soft air to where the summer flowers lived. Once it sank, it could never swim back. My palms touching the soft fabric of my coat pockets, sleeping, only moving to feel. Move as your lover does while she's sleeping on fresh sheets. Pushing herself against the fabric just to sense the presence of the sheets, embedding herself within them. The fresh sheets. Unlike the leaf though, she'll never sink into the sheets. She'll always swim back. There's no place to live within the sheets. But a leaf always has a place atop the summer flowers.