Whispering willows,
slowly singing a euphony.
Cries loud enough to hear through soundproof walls
and covered vents.
Leaves that fall to their death.
Only to be then shattered beneath a plastic,
sadistic platinum foot.
Sad trees no longer visioning its "Great Perhaps"
A cup of tea sipped every second to Pluto,
who has tragically been disclaimed as a brother,
and back.
No long wondering who and why,
when and where.
Indebtedness being a rare occasion.
The colors of summer,
adapt to the mourning sun.
Fall has come.
Where reincarnation is now the cycle of life.