The fall winds blow leaves scattering about my feet crunching with every step.
Small zephyrs rotate the leaves off the ground, yet I hear them not.
Their spiral of death holds me captive as I know that their vibrant colors will soon fade and dab my landscape with the dullness of winter.
My feet hastened their decay as they soon crumble under the weight of my life.
Yet, a smile breaks across my face as I know how wonderful and perfect are the colors of my life.
I find it ironic that the sunset on the oceans of life is blended with the same mystical colors that now fill my woods.
Steeped with the knowledge that life is nourished by the past and that these colors, although they may fade, nourish the beauty of my spring.
How much do I yearn for the setting of the fire on the waves and yet I am surrounded by those same colors?
A dance for the dead and dying sung in the chorus of season’s change, I yield my own thoughts to the natural wonders that blaze around me.
There is a silence to colors that vibrate a love and a gained respect for the Artist who paints your love on my heart.
Just the glimpse of your face laying in the pile of leaves I just raked up and the silence of your laughter tills the soil of my desires.
I know you are planting seeds with your smile that will bloom with the coming spring and bring me joy.
I can only watch in silence as each step I take becomes one closer to you.  
Perfected in the chill of the day, I feel the heat of your lips on my face as your rosebud face blends silent with the fall winds.
Your hair blows as if a million tentacles reach out to grab my attention.  Not a requiem as if dead, yet life blowing straight to my heart encapsulating my face with red.
The fall of your life will bloom in the spring of mine. In silence, yes, however no sound is greater than
the sound of love.
And as the seasons of my life grow, so does my love for you.
Nourished by the decay of falling leaves, incubated with a blanket of white, bloomed always new in spring, I fill summer’s heat with your hand in mine.
Walking only in the silent knowledge that our love is filled with the colors we both so enjoy and yield our lives to, I stop and pay my respects. 
Yes, a mass for the dead, yet a celebration of life.
Color.
Silent.
  
rb 10-21-08