Falling Leaves
A tumult of orange and russet hues,
the falling leaves of Autumn glide,
trajectories swirled in a northern wind,
to lie untended, cast aside.
From slate grey sky weeps pregnant rain,
peppers the earth with angel tears;
on the border of Winter's icy promise
the memories strip away the years.
Golden reflections fix the eye
on an innocent child of infant grace,
at play in a world of faraway dreams
in a past that is now a foreign place.
Taken too soon like the falling leaves,
veiled in a curtain of angel rain,
bestowing upon the ones who loved
rough justice of timeless hurt and pain.
Yet through gentle tears and loving smiles
a heart beats in an Autumn gale,
for the soul of a child is a sacred prize
and in love, down the years, will forever prevail.
Copyright © Tony Bush | Year Posted 2005
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