The park of red in the midst of grey
tumbling along its destined path
before floating up to where it once fell from
where the green that it was ceases to exist
The sound is the fluttering of a million wings
that fly through the fire colored trees
The air is filled with with the scent of leaves and moss
and the paper which gently flutters beneath my hand
as I stare into the distance and whisper to the wind
No comments:
Post a Comment