I must keep my curtins closed or spend a restless night
betraying all the confidence that I had placed in me.
When emotions congregate in mounds of Autumn leaves
I can not tell my soul that all is well.
For once the leaves have left the tree and faltered to the ground
no wind can blow them back and nurture dies.
Leaving their repose a hapless journey with the wind
before ascending heaven clothed in black.
When I see my Autumn leaves I have a restless night
and dream of ways to hold them in their place.
All through the night I suffer, giving solace to the tree,
while it, without compassion never offers solace back.
Yesterday is history,
tomorrow just a mystery.
And if today is good to me,
it will beat the heck out of day before yesterday!