This Truth, I Feel
Your headstone glistens neath the sky
this breezy, chilly, autumn day,
as dead leaves swirl in circles now
while falling, landing where you lay.
This tree that guards you- soon must sleep;
once lush with earthly, verdant green,
lies dormant while its leaves decay,
and roots face their long, wintry scene.
Now, with these roots, asleep you rest.
Although the sky is clear and blue,
I dread this force, known as decay-
felt deeply neath this tree with you.
Yet- from decay, new spring is born-
from death to life, the cycle goes.
This truth I feel- so, as I grieve-
know life has sprung from your repose.
September 21, 2020
Contest: Writing Challenge - Decay
Sponsor: Constance La France
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