The crowd asked why it should be
another one lost to tragedy
while the sun still shined above
hid behind clouds of anguished doubt
this flood of concern is too late
the showers fell in twilight's eye
now the skies reflect the mood
with the promise of another flood

the warning signs were plentiful
like blades fallen from autumn trees
too many to address singularly
a summing raking is more exact
each little death accounted for
the crumpled victims of season's change
dropping in a silent sprinkling
until the leaves have ceased to be

the blinking light in the marsh
a will-o-wisp foretelling doom
ignored by those of sound mind
luring the rest into the paths
there the brightness was blinding
no longer twinkling far away
instead the siren's lantern shone
across the marsh of no return

thus the leaves and the lights
are the warnings seen too late
because they take an awful price
when the end has come and gone
the crowd may ask why it should be
with the omens left to taunt
crystal clear in hindsight
once hid behind the anguished doubt.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190128.