Another yellow leaf,
     Another red
Descends like grief on grief.
Another yellow leaf
Whispering, "Life is brief,"
Descends from overhead
Another yellow leaf,
     Another red.

A yellow leaf falls          
And hits me in the stomach:    
Last day of summer.

A silver pen,
A silver tongue,
A silver lining
Leaves me hung
There to suspend
Above my end.
I’m running
Out of time.
The words I write,
The words they say,
The strings pulled by
The hands of fate
All let me hang
Beyond my grave.
I’m running
Out of time.

The note I left,
The sound of screams
From those below
Who watch me leave
The spot I stood
As falling leaves
Follow me
To the floor.

The loop I made,
The tears they shed,
The rope so frayed
Tore as I bled
Down from my eyes.
Why would I cry,
When this is what I chose?
My destiny unfolds.

It’s too late.

That first, frosty, autumn morn
I ventured out into the woods.

It was crisp and cold,
My breath hung momentarily in the air.

The trees had shed their leaves In the windy days
And were now carpeting the forest floor.

My first step onto the russet and gold carpet
Crunched so satisfyingly and each step the same.

I set off at a brisk pace,
Leaves crackling and rustling underfoot; so pleasing to the ear.

I continued my walk across this golden carpet
Accompanied by the leaves’ susurration

And remembrances of childhood,
Playing amongst the fallen leaves.

walking down the road
steps on crunchy leaves

looking up and down
humming to myself

feel the chilly breeze
smell the autumn air

taking it all in
each step, each leaf, each day
before you realise

another seasons passed,
and it’s already May

Roses fall, silent;
In moonlight, like pouring rain.
On the leaves, dew hangs