Gone is the supple sap of Spring
And leaves hang limply from the sovereign tree
Remembering the time the world was young
And days were green in their fecundity
Yet those old leaves of brittle age
Resplendent in their glorious red and gold
Still have a tale to write upon the page
Still have a final story to unfold
See how they burst in splendid disarray
Colours enhancing these, their final hours
Until that wondrous splendour fades away
And winter shields the empty leafless bowers
Speaks to me of the passage of time... and the looking backwards upon one's life... with each leaf remaining, now in the splendor of red and gold, still having the strength to write upon the autumn days before winter's still... very well penned, Sir!
I truly enjoyed your beautiful poem. Leaves are so splendidly colorful as they fall from the trees. Even after they create a carpet on the ground they still enrich the soil that more life will come again to the trees! Love this.
Right to the end, the leaves not only offer their beauty to the beholder, but still have a story to tell. Wonderful observation that applies to all living things
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
what pleasure I have, Poet....reading your poetry. i transport myself inside all these fantastic imagery. Thanks Sir