Old Leaves

OLD LEAVES Heads bowed they sadly wait for slower death than that of those entrenched in fear’s retreat the edge of lifeless branches their defeat life’s fluid oozing thickly from their veins, stilled as red stain mimics beauty’s blush the tyrant lashes coldly - weapons drawn, striking with the venom of blind fury intent on wiping out all future spawn. So do the pacifists endure their fate accepting - blow on blow - as no disgrace believing in their hearts that they are free to live where hate and violence have no place, nor is the ice white steel the greater strength in battles fought in time but not in length for all must rest their weapons and seek peace and in their darkest moments sadly weep as memories forgotten fade to dust the weapons and desires fade to rust in the senseless rise and setting of the sun in the tents of fallen soldiers - empty guns. Old leaves clinging to a truth once known withering in the chaffing winds of change tormented by the demons changing face unable to accept sweet deaths embrace. John G. Lawless 8/18/2014 For A. V. Giorgio Structured verse – Iambic forms contest