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by Logan
Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #2204022
A poem for a friend going through some losses at the moment

Autumn's leaves are falling,
descending on the knoll
Memories bleed, calling,
as seasons take their toll

Leaves taken too early,
as hours are recalled,
with songs sung sour, surly
Wind chimes sombre... branches bald

Blown around in foreign winds,
unsettling, it weaves
Between the trees our forest spins,
a multitude of leaves

Too many for the taking,
too many there to count
Forays of our own making,
as leaves still... mass and mount

Through forests of all sizes,
we marshal 'tween the lines
The seasons take their prizes
... impartial by design

Leaving us to congregate,
the pieces that remain
Cleaving, split down lines of fate,
numbed peace in the refrain

Patterns lost in seasons, last,
through forest treks, well versed,
Some leaves, they fall too early, fast
... be glad we had them first
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2204022-Fell