A Dying Leaf, Filled With Red
A dying leaf is you, so filled with red
hue upon your cheek, I stand a month and
I move a little, hands are wet and warm
among this winter chill, so cold and dead.
The crowd is leaving me alone to stare
right at you, this empty shell which held a
thousand deep and heavy thoughts. To stand and
to weep, to dream and wait, to close the door.
Copyright ©
Jake A. | Year Posted 2017
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