Dead Leaves

 

You once grew green

On lofty branches

Defiant against the clouds

Fluttering in the breeze

But now the tree has gone

Just a pale ghost of memory

And the sky is dominant

In my front windows

 

Your first death was brittle

Old man skeleton scratching

Whipping up your decline

In whorls of frustration

And when the rain came

Like falling tears

You sulked in corners

And grew damp with bitterness

 

You are like wet leaves

Dead from the falling

Clinging round my ankles

And blowing in my face

Blocking the flow

Of winter torrents

Cold and clammy

And no use to anyone

 

This is what happens

When age withers sense

This is what Death leaves

This is mulch

rotting in its own hubris

wind-blown and tattered

remnants of life

Dead Leaves