One, at least, disappeared everyday
Just a mere glance to believe that they
Wanted help; what did they have suitable for pay?
Continued shouting the words: survival, death and decay

Silent, watchful, motionless like cold solid gnomes
They started separating from their cozy home-sweet-homes
No longer attached to their structured, functional-like combs
Serious, morbid; ordered to stop their free jolly roams

The edge of a definite cliff
The matter of death close
A breeze, a tilt could cause just the right shift
When would be the last dose?


Foliage hardening
Pigments darkening
No angels harkening

Everything was changing thanks to the king with the gold hand
Death touching Mother Nature and all in its way
Deliberately ignoring last moments of the final stand
Life was progressively, slowly eroding away

Afraid of speaking out more, Nature still had no say
“Be gone!” They screamed but help, none had they

Like a November day but all year round
Protested but doubted they had a case not sound
Gold piercing breath and hope being seared
Layers of black leaves and moisture adhered

Foliage hardening
Pigments darkening
No angels harkening

Ignored, but now gone, a sudden sadness fell
A spirit clashed with death for an old story to tell

A legend of life, fruitful and green
Neglected, and now, no hint of such scene


Still no ounce of life, or hope in sight
The world reached its height and lost it in a night


Foliage hardening
Pigments darkening
No angels harkening

A fear of not remembering what used to be
Blossoms and candy-colored trees
Birds chirping and honey-gathering bees
And out on the coasts, blue, swaying luscious seas

Taken for granted, but not enjoyed until over
Everyone was sad, doleful, and sober
Because of what used to be
Now, all that was left, was just one memory