Last leaf

Last leaf falling from the twiggered arms
of wintered tree, riding soulful, senseless,
down to waiting ground; dried breath of
seasons, crinkled edge and colour dying,

so do we all, follow, in slow, descending
footsteps, toward the beckoning grave,
into the bosom of deathly night, where
the sun shines brighter in that blackness,

and shuddering forgetting takes hold, to
soothe the pain of relentless years, and
to whisper again, those songs we once
knew, and could sing,but had forgotten.

Advertisements

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s