A Sympathy of Leaves

To Sheonna, a love gone but not lost Somewhere on the edge of summer A heavy fog creeps in, stage right. The world goes dull, The leaves leave, and everything goes with it. A weeping willow and the sorrow ensue: Irrevocable; the falling of tides and the resting of the earth. Absent of life, void of resplendence, the emotion provokes, A candid spirit, brutal as the world is cold. So simple, yet dramatic, as if the changing of seasons, Ambiguous, while definite and unyielding; This motion of the heart; profound, be it inexplicable. It is the song without rhyme, An untamed heart, a wild tempo: a crescendo and staccato. We were not here before, though we still remember it; The way the wind sighed to a golden, setting sun between scarlet passions of clouds. It was violet, it was silver; It was ecstasy, it was love. My scrapbook mind, the edges are a little frayed; But I still remember you like autumn: Beautiful, golden; a luster of humanity at which to marvel; Just a hue under violet and a shade above gray. But the winter came too soon, and we faded away to a bleak painting of ashes and reality. Now I've felt the cold, Now I've felt the numbness; And I am numb to it. We are like the seasons; we shall come and we shall go, Never to be forgotten, but all is of an essence of time. For until then, I shall catch myself dancing with leaves... Ste_e