Look For You

When the children cry
with puddles in their arms,
I look for you.

When the dirty sweep
of leaves get trampled,
and form haughty maps
for me to follow,
I follow you.

When the barters
get bothered and
the clothes flake
off the scarecrow,
I flock to you.

When the weather
gets dumb and the
soaked bedsheets
get wetter,
I'm better to you.

Though now I'm undone,
my eyes crossed over
purple cheekbones,
with the magic receding,
and my logic fleeting,
still I look out for you.