I sit on the deck, staring in A trance,
Watching the leaves, take their last dance.
They twist and turn, as they fall to the ground,
Landing so gently, never bouncing, up and down.
A few, still hanging on branches, with beauty, so bright,
Showing true colors, as our days, grow longer at night.
They have all turned, red, yellow, gold, or brown,
As the wind blows, they fall, one by one, to the ground.
Leaves provide shade, from the suns bright ray’s,
Breaking the wind, on A breezy day.
Each one different, in shape and size,
They show us their shadow, when the moon light, rises,
Leaves stay, for only one growing season,
So much beauty, in such A short time,
Leaving colorful memories, Pictures, in our mind.
So, fast we forget, the beauty they gave,
We all have choice words,
As we rake, them away.


© Tom Maxwell 12/13/02