Le Mort Leaves

I walk-

And the leaves

Swirl around my feet.

Brittled and browned,

They cling to my skin.

In a whirl

Of wind and leaves

I tread,

As Death stalks my steps-

In a myriad of

Brittled, cold and browned Leaves.

Grey and ghoulish winds

Like an angry vortex

Try to suck my breath

Away - while the leaves

Persist on burying me.

No other life exists

Except Death-

And me-

Battling the winds and leaves

That seek to steal

My life from me.

My breath-

Small before the tempest wind,

And my feet

Slowed- weighted down

By the dead decaying leaves

Burying- burying me.

In a colossal tomb

Death, has finally

Succeeded me-

Beneath the dead and brittled

Brown leaves.