Silently Lulled Poem by Mark Heathcote

Falling leaves they're like parchment memories
they're crisp and stronger than ever before.
Falling in your lap; change trajectories
hand clasping - the seed of the sycamore
and as it does in nature's store, the winds howl
the tree-bares-all. Naked autumn-fall
roots on this earth so deep, they groan and growl
never willing to lose an inch of bedroll
but as all things collapse, so does - the mind
into its own-rich-black velvety mulch,
that resembles ourselves consigned
these amber pages, which drop, silently lulled
we give up our evergreen fripperies
tongue and cheek our emerald mysteries.