Fallen Leaves

Like parchment notes strewn all over
With sweet memoirs
All the verdancy has left
Of sweet summer bereft
Their color variations settle
Across the forest floor
Like a million opinions
On what is Love
The tree stands naked
Its branches embrace
Empty sky above
As it lets go
Making way for budding lovelets
Ready for next Spring
Don't know why
But knows when
Time will end
It ended at the beginning
It is written in the leaves
As they are created
From the heart
As the artist releases the Art

Charles Bourke Wildbank

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