Gone with the Leaves

Ben Rosen
Leaves of change rustled in the car
Black and lonely the night,
I left my grandmother with the dark
Grams body rattled and swayed
Abandoned and cold,
Worn out breathing,
Clouded dust soaked windows
It was her sun spotted hand that blew cautiously
Her cheeks quivered,
Shivered softly, struck solely with doubt
With a crisp final bang, she peeked over moist blurry glass
My college fueled sedan crept cautiously
Leaving memories to drift delicately
against a brisk autumn breeze.
Leaves will scratch and scatter our scene
Gone are the colors of her favorite tree
Her vivid grandson, a fading crumpled leaf
Filled with many misty showers,
Water bursting his shallow oak veins
When white snow decorates tattered leaves
Grandma Rosemary shall stop and freeze
To a crisp refreshing bang,
As flurry covered feet
crunch the silence
of wrinkled autumn Leaves