Leaves

Flitter, fall, disperse then die

Held in the now soft hands of natures breath,

Spinning out of life with grace and placid thoughts

Littering the floor, crisp delight with end in sight,

There you lie at the mercy of Mothers touch

The Sun tries on its most pensive suit,

Hands reach to pluck at loose threads

Debonair draft with savage teeth to bite at all that feed it

Renaissance reprise in a kindred soul

Settled in this growing bed, forever to rest

Until Father places you in his veins

Begging life to grow.