A green turning amber,
Lifeless look on glass stained eyes.
A soul falling deep to slumber,
Only few could see them cry.
A month of fall adorned with red,
The kind of hue that many never forget.
Leaves of maple deck themselves gold,
In search of elixir to keep them from cold.
You hear a cry or nay, you don't;
You try to see what led it there.
But when there is nothing left to atone,
A tear slips for the tragic affair.
We romanticize fall without a second thought;
Red isn't always a colour that's sought.
A little insight into the world of pain
And everything once beautiful is slain.
©panda_queen
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Doors In My Head
PoetryPoetries, Proses, and scribblings. Note: Author does not take any credit for any of the pictures and videos in the book.
