Leaves

An ode to fall from a painter.

Let the fall leaves, fall where they will.
Dancing in the wind they can't stand still.
The beauty will make your heart stop like a suicide pill.

I create for the sake of creation.
I use a mosaic of trees for my inspiration.
The brush strikes the canvas such a flawless vibration.

I can feel the cool breeze brush past my face.
The tempest creates a cyclone of grace.
Just as it comes it leaves without a trace.

It's the sort of thing a camera can't see.
The lens can't capture the acrylic debris.
You need a boat just to wade through this fresco sea.

Soon enough these colors will be entombed by a canvas of white.
Casting it's glow, such a radiant light.
For now though I have color, at least one more night.