All of life is poetry
a half-baked layered poem
my window is the picture frame
that calls my eye to roam

frozen silent evergreens
with dark serenity
they're preaching self-reliance
but hide mendacity

November leaves dead yellow-brown
swirl littered on the road
their song tells of an aging dream
that failed to unfold

a needled pine stares blackly down
unwilling to release
because the winter brawl is near
the generous decrease

All nature is lamenting
lessons painted gray
that cruel decline must have its way
in seasons of decay

pieces tumble crushed to dust
into the icy mud
the drama of the dance of death
that poisons every blood

& all of life is poetry
a layered twisted poem
the window is the picture frame
to fetch my lyrics home