The leaves fluttered gently and floated slowly to the ground.

Brisk wind portrayed the fiddler, the leaves made not a sound.

We left a lifetime of triumph, as we worked our way down.

And as the end drew nigh, we circled round and round.


The other leaves cheered loudly as the wind blew so strong.

When once we all were growing, we now did not belong.

The rights that once were righted and wrongs that felt so wrong.

Now pierced the soul so sharply as we sang that same sad song.


A wealth of light was given and the water made us grow.

So many ticks before this, prior to getting old.

We stared up at the stars and remembered the love we sold.

Then fell back to the earth, at the closing of our show.


The brown, crisp leaves lied safely, as we failed to bide our time.

The hurt and pain dimmed slowly as we escaped that daily grind.

They tried to show us Heaven, but we’d all become so blind.

Our souls then rested in pieces as we left them all behind.