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.
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