Leaves are like words in
The Autumn,
Too late and left behind –
The arboreal detritus of
Poorly formed ideas and mislaid plans.
They fall –
Blown around by the heavy howls and gusts
Of voices,
Ten thousand shades of dying.
Leaves are like words in
The Autumn,
Too late and left behind –
The arboreal detritus of
Poorly formed ideas and mislaid plans.
They fall –
Blown around by the heavy howls and gusts
Of voices,
Ten thousand shades of dying.