The Autumn leaves are falling
And here within they’ve settled,
Though I can’t find where,
Shattering like ice
Underneath the frosted
Surface of the deep.

The silent snows are drifting.
I have no heart for fires
That cannot understand,
So full of warmth and dancing,
The peaceful lack of color
Which clothes the streets below.

The winter wind is rising.
Some voice recalling sunlight:
“All appears so fine.”
I can no longer bear
These lies which keep my soul
From flying with the breeze.

The leaves are rent to pieces.
I did not move to save them.
The wind collects them faster
Than I could dare pursue.
And so I stand in silence
As daylight slowly fades.

Some voice within is crying
For seasons that were wasted.
The Summer is forgotten,
The Spring I never knew.
They are not dead, but sleeping
Deep beneath the snow.

“They shall soon reawaken,”
A voice once said to me.
For now the wind keeps rushing,
Time disappears too fast.
Perhaps I still could catch it,
With Winter as my hope.

My coat with sleeves outstretched
They found upon the snow.
The chill has pierced me through.
Hah! How could I mind?
Not with the stars as guides,
My hair whipped wild with speed.

Far off, some lights a-glimmer
Reflected in the fragments
Of tattered Autumn leaves
Convince me that in flying,
Having lost the fireside,
I have gained the world.


3 thoughts on “Pieces

    1. Thank you for the compliment! Yes, bit of a ride I know. But moments like that seem most often to move me to write. 🙂 I always seem to write about the weather for some reason. I like the imagery there I suppose.


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