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
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