Fallen leaves stain the concrete with their decay;
It reminds me of the marks that bodies leave behind
After they've been scraped up from the scene of a neglected death.
The thought pushes ever so near
That it is my turn to mimic the season,
To take note of the shedding death around me.
I'm called to leave my stain behind
And shake my leaves free of me.
The sound of a whisper wafts by me, bringing with it leaves of
Red, brown, and gold.
Autumn Spirit,
Welcome me into a new life.
