The Leaves
The leaves they fall like dancing blades,
Forever spinning among the glades.
Glinting like knives they slice and skewer,
Lilting as they reach the sewer.
Carrying them down in rivers of muck,
They run in such numbers, utterly amok!
Emptying into my yard of thorns,
To be put in a pile forever scorned.
They rot, and decay, for hours a day.
Never relenting, never going away.
I watch them as they turn into grass.
Relieving this world finally, at last.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
