Eternal Summer - Scribbles

Sundown

A fallen leaf,
velvety with age,
rests its head upon the tiled porch.
Her pensive eyes
trail its path
reluctant to turn away once it has settled.
Opposite her
in a wicker chair
the old gentleman slumps languidly.
A cup of tea
in his frail hand,
his shaded eyes rove the garden, content.
They speak in low tones;
half goes unheard,
the rest are meaningless words, important to no one.
As they talk,
she searches his face
for a trace of the proud man he once used to be.

The evening sun
dips beneath a grey cloud
leaving a smudge of its red dying light.
The funeral wind
carries away dead petals;
it speaks of tender words and gentle love.
It caresses them
as it rushes to the dusky sky
like a father would fondle his little girl.