Dying Leaves
The leaves have aged
They flutter to the ground like snakeskin stars
Dry, crackling coughs from dying flora
Wrapping shattered memories in their last agony
Whispering frail, old secrets with each footstep
Red blush and yellow tint and brownish tone
Orange glow and burgundy sheen and greenish hints
Crepe shapes hang form the tips of twigs
Mermaids ready to dive into an acid sea
That tears them apart into tiny pieces
And yet brings life to barren places
Perhaps remembering their own tiny selves
Years ago as random sprouting seedlings
Uncurling gently in the warmth of day
Thinking of raindrops gently rolling
Over a bed of ash-grey cloud
And peeling dry shells off their forms
To reveal soft, wet, shiny leaf-beings
That shimmer in the breaking light
Swaying in the every blowing
Never again to be that way
Waiting to die in the dirt
Forever lost to the world of green and living
Yet beneath the roots still feeding life in death