O, The Leaves

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic



Down the old country lane

Oak trees, gold and red from fall

Line the path on both sides

I cannot see anything ahead of me, although the road continues without bends for miles

I can see nothing behind me but my footsteps in the dust

I don't remember how I got here

Nor where I am going

As I continue the trees start to shed their leaves

The wind shakes them from their heavenly perches

?the road is soon covered

every step is a crunch and a crack




like walking through a snow drift

my pace is slowed to a crawl as I am slowly buried to my chest

soon I am immobile

as they fill my eyes, my ears, my mouth

my last thought is "o, the leaves"

then it is the crackling darkness

Submitted: July 14, 2012

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