Mustache Poetry

D e a d L e a v e s

D e a d    L e a v e s

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In a cottage, Caramel was staying
Built with passion wrecked by sadness
Noticed a man that was standing
Felt the wind's hug and his gaze

Performed the litters sorrow with anxiousness
By the window glass was looking and the heart blazed
The man covered with black leather suit—
With a blink of an eye, had vanished.

Caramel, a sweet little dame
Dropped the canned coffee and felt the grip
of another's hand
Glanced upon her shoulder, a brown leaf fell on her palm
The orbs that were fixed onto her—she felt the same

Picked the canned coffee and smile—
the man did for the first in a long time

Astonished by the scar she saw on his face
Gasped—eyes widened when she looked with ace
Under the tree with the mingling thing
The wind blowed again, with the dead leaves reign.

He's the childhood friend,
Caramel used to play
In the cottage covered with trees
The little girl climbed on which was their game
To follow her friend nervously came
And how deep were their excitement
Tripped her ankle and they fell

Blood on his face to save the li'l maiden
Dead leaves roar and they collapse on the grassy heaven

Caramel snapped out of the reminisces
Caressed his cheek with the scarred and intenly looked at his eyes
She smiled—she cried,

“Hi, there. Dead leaves were still inside.”

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