Surround my seat
In orange, brown and red
They do not seem at all disturbed
To find that they are dead
In fact, they seem contented
Their short life was enough
They grew amongst the branches
And they died amidst the brush
And there they lie, curling up,
wetted by the rain
Grateful to be resting
Composting again
Fallen leaves
Surround my seat
In orange, brown and red
They do not seem at all disturbed
To find that they are dead
No comments:
Post a Comment