Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
The sound alarm in the morning The scent oh smell the roasted Coffee brewing and every morning When I started noticing Every single minute detail around me The birds chirping away their problems The leaves oh seemingly orange of age Falling towards the ground and Never going back to where it once was Being swept in a heartless endeavor In one corner in a pile that resembles Mountains of old and forgotten And left till the wind takes And leaves As I take a sip of coffee This morning, contemplating of All those leaves that have fallen I ask “When will I fall?” “Will somebody catch me?”
0
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 8:44 AM UTC
Old age
The sound alarm in the morning The scent oh smell the roasted Coffee brewing and every morning When I started noticing Every single minute detail around me The birds chirping away their problems The leaves oh seemingly orange of age Falling towards the ground and Never going back to where it once was Being swept in a heartless endeavor In one corner in a pile that resembles Mountains of old and forgotten And left till the wind takes And leaves As I take a sip of coffee This morning, contemplating of All those leaves that have fallen I ask “When will I fall?” “Will somebody catch me?”
PoetryUnderSqualor
Written by
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 8:44 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem