A poem a day keeps the cobwebs off my keyboard.
|I did not expect this.
Age is not considered
By tender things, newly arrived.
Youth was a giddy dance,
My gaze always skyward.
An upturned face seeking the Light
That bathed us all in golden streams
As it slipped between
The fluttering spaces to warm even me,
Nestled as I was in arms full
Of glorious greenery.
Protected then, from the Wind that now
Tugs and tears at me, trying to pull me along.
It rushes over the ground, and I hear
The whispers of those who have fallen.
They rise on the air and circle,
Trying desperately to regain their place,
Only to fall with the retreating breeze,
Swirling down again into their death rattles.
It is hard to look upon them,
But I cannot look away.
My strength failing, I cannot turn to the sun,
Who now rises as a wink and sends only
Sideward glances that do not warm.
No nourishment flows through these veins.
My once-verdant skin, yellowing and dry
Curls in upon itself. The Wind rises again,
And the crackling voices of my friends
Call for me to join them.
It cannot be long.
The Daily Poem July 27, 2020
PROMPT Write a poem about Autumn from the viewpoint of the last leaf on the tree.