Decay
The Autumn leaves fall slowly from the trees, drifting down, to the ground. Like the memories of old lovers that grow weaker with time. Waiting, waiting for the leaves to dry and drift Away on the wind. Hoping, hoping that they will sink back Into the earth to once again feed the tree with the love of Decay.
👁 3💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.