The temperature, is dropping, a breeze, usher’s, in the cold,
Leaves, float, across, the lawn, the snow, is still, on hold,
As, I sit here, freezing, collecting, random thoughts,
I just wonder, how she is, in memories, I’m caught.
As I sit, amid the leaves, that swirl, off the ground,
Listening, to their chatter, hearing, no other sound,
I wonder, what, they say to me, do they, have a voice,
Or are, they, just swept away, never, with a choice.
Though, I sit, watching leaves, I’m struck, by the fact,
Some leaves, just swirl, around, while other’s, come right back,
To, the place, that they began, to, the very tree,
That they, fell from, long ago, yet now, they’re touching me.
As, the cold wind blows, warmth, comes from inside,
Even though, the leaves, pile up, there are things, that, they can’t hide,
Through, the falling leaves, there are things, that everyone knows,
Without, you, in my life, a cold wind, always blows.