The vicarious autumn winds
Shook leaves of brilliant hues
From the trees to take them
Whirling into solitude.
"Why?" I pleaded,staring up at the sky,
"Why must the winter come?"
But there was no reply,
Only silence in the sun.
"Where is the warmth that drove
The passion now stranding me, hounded
By memories inclined to grope
At a heart that once resounded
Of a living dream?"
Not a whisper, no reply
But in a tree's
Twist into sky...
A beauty's brilliance stoked
By the winds that stripped away
A canopy that cloaked
Its branching out to reach the day