I feel the trees leafs
and hear the birds sing
but I only feel alive
When you are holding me
Your arms are my home
I was engrossed
The flowering plant
Watching the petals
Light up with hope
Of their aura
Was a sight
Misted the leafs
Dressed in green
Your fingertips planted trees on me.
You left a forrest
full of life.
But with no rain
there was no healthy leafs.
So the forrest crumbled.
And I cut the tress down
for I did not wish
to have a memory of you
on my body.
Yet, roots of the forrest
remained deep beneath my skin.
And I will now forever,
if I wish or not,
have memories of your fingerprints.
As every season holds it's own description, the feeling that fall gives is one in it's own kind.
As the night comes upon us in the early days of fall a soft touch of a cool breeze to clear your mind.
Here in the south a much welcome time of year.
As our nights get longer, days become shorter, we know Fall is near.
The green leaves of summertime almost turning over night.
The morning dew glistens upon the tree tops shining ever so bright.
You can hear the soft beginning of the leaves falling to the ground,
You can listen close as the animals start to play, walking across fallen leaves making a crackling sound.
This time of year brings so much more than the falling leafs and cool night air.
The sweet aroma of cotton candy and funnel cakes coming from the Fair.
Children laughing and screaming as they ride the carnival rides.
Boyfriend's playing games to win their girlfriend a prize.
Its getting colder As the months of fall come to an end .
We say goodbye for now and prepare for Old Man Winter to begin.
Fall is a beautiful time of year with a bit of summer and a nip of winter put together is the way fall makes you feel.
I am free
like the leaf blowing away
dancing in the wind, traveling farther than I've ever been.
A new season brings change
and death so I can start anew.
I've become more comfortable with death and the cycle of life over the past few year. I was feeling sentimental in my grief when I wrote this.
My emotions falling down
To solid ground how low can I be
So crumpled and old my problems getting faded away
Never masking emotions
Only sweeping them inwards
Collecting verses of unspoken regrets,
like autumn falls...
The harlequin trees celebrate
With a red, yellow and orange
On all the streets of Ontario,
Announcing the onslaught
Of another miserable
I'm a fan of irony.
Pile of leafs
Orange and green
Some other things