Time to let it go;
Like an autumn leaf,
Twisting to and fro,
Yellow and dying,
Turn into dust, relieved
That its death has come.
Even though the falling - is one of glum
And overcome.
For the leaf has been beaten,
Trod on, shattered, battered.
In the heart of its veins -
Once bore fruitful life,
Such hope, anticipation
Such cause for celebration,
The leaf has been left -
On the side of the road, not an evergreen,
Not seen, or shiny
But freyed, grimey and worn.
Unlike the new leaves -
That are born -
Into new life;
Blossomy fruition,
Bud of recognition.
Beauty of youth.
Fresh and untorn,
Bright, unworn.
The leaf crumbles and parts,
Veins break away from its heart.
2 comments:
I love this, although it is a sad way to look at the leaves, so beautiful in their dying.
I'm so attached to trees though, I find myself writing alot about them and their leaves as well.
I have loved your poetry since I first found it. Dunno why. Just do. Ta
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