As I walk down the sleepy street,
the leaves fall withered in my path.
Like memories they
lose their vibrancy, fluttering down,
no longer cherished.
I pray that I will never lose my color
and perish un-noticed as they do.
They reflect the souls of those
visiting from years past.
They symbolize those reborn
over and over throughout the seasons
as they return to witness the
smiling children playing in
the crisp autumnal winds;
to witness the young loves grow,
as they first stroll along picking pumpkins
on the awkward first date.
Flirting with the wind,
joyously falling in distinct patterns,
swirling around one another
like a whirl pool of fire.
Despair sets in as they are raked
by those trying to contain
their natural innocence and elegance.