The thin, brown branches slowly shift in hue
until I can no longer view the sky from below.
At first, specks of yellow, which soon become green,
then dark grow the leaves and new seeds are sown.
They stay for awhile, in long-lived strength,
until the air chills and the earth turns to rest.
Then the leaves dawn new colors for one last dance
before they nestle in the soil for next spring to be blessed.
YOU ARE READING
Ghostwriter
PoetryLiving with mental illness can oftentimes trap one within the inner maze of their mind. In that place, dreams, fears, wishes, and regrets all compile together to create a new world far from the one we physically exist in. At times, it becomes easy t...
