A thousand leaves are dropping,
Like never before,
They’re falling, crunching,
Down, down,
Forever down they go,
Drops of color,
Are scattered across,
Dead grass is poking,
Wishing to be seen,
Twirling in the sky,
You might see a red circle drifting to a stop,
Or an orange rigid,
Stuck to a branch,
Wishing it could let go now,
And fly away,
And be free like the others,
But it was the last to bloom,
And will be the last to fall,
Always dreaming,
Of a breeze to come and take it away,
Laying on muddy ground,
Now stuck in confusion,
Was this what I was dreaming for,
A bird comes soaring,
Across the land,
Free as can be,
And its hopes are elevated,
Higher than a thousand,
A thousand leaves in the sky.
'it was the last to bloom, And will be the last to fall, Always dreaming, Of a breeze to come and take it away'..., Lovely lines these...last to bloom...last to fall...no breeze...but the bird came soaring...to take the hopes up higher than a thousand leaves in the sky...artful colorful piece, Star Dee...i liked...10
i like this one. i like the way you use your words. and i love all the colors. :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderful wanderings of a wayward mind winding up in A winsome song. CP