The last autumn leaf had fallen.
A gust had taken it off its perch
and sent it earthbound.
It relished its slowed descent
only to be cradled by the ***** of the ground.

Then winter had been upon us.
Leaving us cold, desolate and empty.
Loneliness wielded a reckless brush
and had painted the backdrop
of our minds with vast whiteness
accentuated by the greys of uncertainty.

The leaf froze and crumbled to dust.
Just as we would have if not for
the mantra of hope.
Of which,
dreams might again spring forth.
Engulfing and taking us home.

We'd journey through scented spring -
soaking up the amber of days
and the fragrance of flowered fields.
We'd run our fingers over the tops of tall
dew-peppered grass.

We sing the same chorus
as we turn our heads towards
the suns of summer.
A haven where we believe all is hale
and the fires in our hearts
will once again be rekindled.