Falling leaves

The leaves are falling
and the moon is rising
I’m waiting for her
to return, as she always does

Bringing frost as a gift
with skies blue and grey
I know, I can feel
she’ll be along very soon

I don’t call her friend
though we’re rather well acquainted
But I’d rather she leave
as soon as she arrives

I don’t enjoy her company
Her cold hands hold on to me
as my smile fades
For I am held by my fears
and captured for a season

So, the falling leaves
falling without making a sound
make the biggest noise of all
when hitting the ground.

© The Drummer Poet


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