I walk a path adorned by fallen leaves It must be autumn now, the air is crisp A treasure trove of colors, not for thieves Although I steal their colors like a wisp
A wisp of little metaphors, all mine Oh look, the final sigh of maple’s breath The trees prepare to sleep; the trees are fIne The forest path is not the way through death
I walk this living path to comprehend That life is full of seasons to enjoy These vibrant colors do not mark an end They simply show the art the trees employ
The pathway bearing leaves, a living thing Reminds me they’ll be back again in Spring.
This entry was posted on Tuesday, October 15th, 2024 at 10:19 am and is filed under Sonnets. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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