Reluctant, twisted, then released,
Twirling then fluttering to the ground.
First colors of green now have left them,
Surface soon as orange, tinted brown.
Earthward, they fall in their reverence,
To finally rest on hallowed ground.
While spring creeps in they don't awaken,
Buried they make not a sound.
Leaving a legacy long before eventual demise,
Their old leaves shall always be all around.
New life erupts from every twig,
Assuring the future, forever and sound.
Like flowers expressing creation,
God is still at HIS best.
Man, woman, and child alike,
Shall rise again, until their eternal rest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem