Whispers of Autumn

The clouds begin to grieve as the light veils Leaves descend paths in a radiant race Only the trees in the forest now dwell Raindrops blast pain upon mugs without grace Minds in a tragic war with expired life Dreaming of a rose-petal sweet sight Storms blowing branches in their wretched strife There aren't rose rays to fly kids' merry kites The cordial wildlife no longer entices Wee paws press panes desiring glimmer hype Nada rambling, eyes warped in devices Blood pressure rises and debris swims windpipe Autumn, the season when spirits are torn Lost in the grey union of dusk and dawn.