The end approaches
Surrounded by one last burst of color
A desperate final flurry of activity
Those that can, fly away
Off to warmer sunny days
Even in death trees carpet the ground with color and give what they can to to provide warmth and food to others.
Cold comes, white fluff obliterates all
Memory of what once was
The world becomes hushed, flat, enveloped nothingness
The white, all colors combined into one
Takes all life, wraps it up.
Frozen, killed, stored up for a resurrection day.
No one remembers what once was there.
Death is white cold
We fall down in flames of yellow, red and gold.
Down to the green grass to be covered and forgotten.