Besieged

They're running from the chill

The biting, scratching wind

I guess nobody told them

That they'll be back again

Breaking from their branches

Orange, gold, and crimson

They flutter with a panic

And sometimes when you listen

You hear their screams and shouts

They fight a hopeless battle

October marks the edge

As tiny snowflakes cackle

Soundless, overnight

The soldiers marched on in

They overthrew the colors

And shed the trees of skin

Where everything once sang

And blossomed in the light

Now reigns a land of grey

Of darkness, of the night.