The Truth About Leaves
Ah the leaves, the leaves
The lovely Autumn leaves
Why is it everyone believes
They are so fine?
Sure they’re pretty on the tree
But they fall off, you see
Then they become a problem--mine
But they’re so pretty
I hear you say, and it’s true
When looking is all you have to do
But make no mistake
They’re not so pretty
For the guy with the rake
Autumn’s a fake
Every pretty leaf that flutters
To the ground
Has to be scraped into a pile
Like so much clutter
They choke the lawn
They clog the gutter
I must confess
Yellow and red
They’re ugly and dead
And I have to deal with the mess
About the Creator
Across the Heavens
Pull me under to where you fought the hardest in crevices of what was and should have been. Drop me into the wasteland of your unloved years so I can remember the reflection in the mirror who first taught you how to climb inches so you could ascend the depths of self-doubt. Through shattered glass, I will recount the whole picture.
By Sam Eliza Green29 minutes ago in Poets
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