The Fallen Leaves
The leaves are turning, and in season changing, Those vibrant hues they wear are burning out; And in their passing have lit up the world With passionate display, in colors brighter, In vivid show of reds, oranges, and yellows, Before they are to fade, fall, and decay, And line the forest floor as those discarded. And as they fall, so they become the lost, And gather at our feet in lifeless heaps; And in signal all around announce the end. Yes, death inevitable rears its head, As we stand face to face with winter's grip, And mourn that that which is purest will die.
Generic
Metaphorical
7
0
Spurs
Our current perspective, in this very moment, is altered by everything we've ever experienced up til now, what happened years ago and what happened moments ago, and the accompanying thoughts. We are forever changing.
Poems by style
Poems by content
Archive