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Oh malignant sun, you've gone

and left me in the cold.



The freezing drought of fallen winters,

tells me that I'm old...



and fallen one,

your hands have gone,

your sands have always told,



the fires that my heart had started's,

never been so bold.



So walk with me,

and talk with me,

malignant sun, return



I've dwelled within this cold, enough

I've drowned within this world.

I wrote this poem on a leaf

it's rotted veins, a muddy blue.

...And wove from them a tapestry

to keep my words eternal, true.



I wrote this poem on a leaf,

no paper harmed to have my say

for paper's had it's day of rein

but all that's changed this week of autumn.



I wrote this poem on a leaf,

with ink as white as snow

...and cast my words into the breeze,

where words had aught to go.



I wrote this poem on a leaf

with blessings from the fall,

upon each leaf I put a stanza,

till I've writ them all.



I wrote this poem on a leaf

fore there be no more paper.

Incinerated with a eulogy,

the tree that turned to vapor.



...Rest in peace, noble protector.

COMMENTS

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ariesxxPassion
19:59 Oct 07 2011

I really enjoyed this~

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imaginationXstation
01:19 Nov 10 2011

This is a great piece of writing :)

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