Is it the time of year?
Or why is death so near?

Leaves are falling,
the earth is calling.

The sun is not bright anymore,
rain and fog have the winning score.

The trees look faint,
there is no color to paint.

Those who are sick get weak,
prognosis seems bleak.

Leaves fall and return in spring,
people go and just leave an empty swing.

It balances with each souvenir,
of the person we have held so dear.

A moment spent happy with laughter,
never to be forgotten thereafter.