The Leaves From TreesA Poem by Ben TaylorHis back ached, Hunched under the weight of Accumulated seasons and Uncounted years. Joints groaned as he surveyed Himself, limbs gnarled and worn, The hand of wind and sun and sand Having shaped him as it Saw fit. A slight murmur of a chill, Ensconced between warm folds Of Indian summer, Reminded him that he was not To be spared from Autumn's caress; The conflagration that swept from leaf to leaf Would also scorch his crown and coax from him a display of fiery hues Before he faded into the monochrome. He held on firmly to the earth In fain acceptance of his Coming declension. Summer-blue sky paled at Autumn's approach, And he felt his colors begin to burn themselves To ash; He hoped one day to again Be dressed in nature's finery, But perhaps this winter Would be his last.
© 2012 Ben TaylorAuthor's Note
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Added on June 29, 2012Last Updated on June 30, 2012 AuthorBen TaylorColumbia, MOAboutAlmost everything I write now is relatively real, so just read what I write and get to know me. more..Writing
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