deepundergroundpoetry.com

Falling Leaves

What strange messages  
has autumn handed us!  
 
They hold their branch,
by their withering root.
 
Once flushed in greens,  
they fall, die, Indian gold.  
 
Blanketing our solid grounds,
quilting our grey ways.  
gothicsurrealism
Written by gothicsurrealism (Daniel Long)
Published
Author's Note
www.gothicsurrealism.com
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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LilDragonFly
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