Dying of the Leaves

Dying of the Leaves

Swinging with the breeze
The dying of the leaves
Brings with them a dim glee

Dancing around the trees
Chanting, We will not go

Falling down in piles
Death grips thee

Bury all those surrendered
Pits into a mound
Bury them in the ground

Flames in the air
Licking the trees
Orange, Yellow, Red

Watch them from a slumber
Dreary eyed night

The dead watch the dying
Fall from high up in the sky

Covered in leaves
Rot on the breeze
Such heavy fees

9/4/20 - Andy McRae