Sing a Song

“Dead leaves lay still until the wind takes them here and there: even the last flower is withered: yet there is a beauty in decay.” Quote by _ Constance La France Feeble boughs, Dead rows, Forlorn trees, Gone bliss. Leaves sadly fall, Hope, a bitter gall, They lie still, Bowed by an unseen will. Soon the wind blows, A gloomy rhythm flows, The dead take flight, Near or out of sight. The meadows lie bare, Stripped of their moisture care, Flowers are withered, Their fragrance is gone and hindered, All the decay sing a song, The melody in a silent tongue, I listen, hope and learn, Better days I yearn. June 8, 2023. Writing Challenge - D Quote - Poetry Contest, Constance La France.