The Fall


“Who would I tell how much it hurts
watching the branches go bare
as they let go of the leaves that they
once held so dear, so tight,
and I’m to be labelled
‘The Fall, that finds its glory in the leaves falling dead.’
while, I, indeed, am among the fallen leaves that lie lifeless,
hoping they rise them from dead,
for one last time, just so I can
tell them that it was the
very breeze that once taught them to
swing, and dance, and fly;
left, and right, up, and down;
and the very tree that cared, and held them
from falling, are the ones that abandoned
and took their lives, watched them die,
threw them dead to ground,
and that I’m just a scapegoat
they are accustomed to..
year after year, every year..”`,
weeps “The Fall” into a man
walking on the yellow leaves
lying all over, beautiful even in death,
turning their graveyard underneath into a serene sight.