The Fall

October 29, 2011 § 3 Comments

The autumn is red and waits outside in the darkness.
If we’d stop talking
we could hear the trees shedding their leaves,
and how these fall:
the perfect red ones,
proudly reach the green grass
where they’ll be best presented.
The indecisive yellow
which remain hanging on the tree,
praying for the wind to take charge.
And then the ill and tired green ones,
with the brown wounds from their secret sorrows.
These last ones fall through the rosebushes,
and get ripped by the thorns.
Often don’t reach the earth,
but become little fate flags,
warnings to every bold summer.
But the tree, the tree is still beautiful.
Slim and black in the moonlight.
Advertisements

§ 3 Responses to The Fall

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

What’s this?

You are currently reading The Fall at I was not born in English.

meta

%d bloggers like this: