The Season Of The Dying, Poem by Spanner Thegob

It's that time of year,
When life, once again must Disappear
Into the cold and lonely
Fallow ground, bare and only
Touched by a cold icy autumnal grip
The grasp on life, begins to slip.

Trees begin to shed their leaves
Snapdragons, marigolds, all deceive
adding colour of browns and gold
to Nature's palette. A portrait of death, behold
time The perfect witness will never age
but watch as nature turns its page.
like the swallows who migrate
To return upon a warmer date
Lament the season of decay.
As I too will fade, In that ancient, terminal way