It's autumn;
Everything is dying
Yet the birds
Are carefree. They soar
Through the sky
And allow their feathers
To cascade down onto
Your eyelashes.
We pass through winter- snow on your face
Spring- the fragrance of flowers in your hair
Summer- the sunlight in your eyes turning them golden
And then
It's autumn again.
The birds, they allow nothing
To come
In the way of their flight.
Their feathers cascade down onto
Your eyelashes
Again.
This time
They settle there,
For your eyes
Are closed,
As you lie in
Your casket.
After all
It's autumn, and everything is dying.
