…of endings

The autumn leaves are falling again, another season of endings
there is no defence against the cold winds
tangled and tumbling, always together clinging to each other
against the pull of the relentless wind, drifting down in silence
to the cold ground
ever resisting the flow, watching their journey
a deep melancholy falls gently upon me
the ghostly trees stand still, finally bare and cold, rendered empty
and long autumn shadows form dark pools
gently lapping like waves, at my feet
the sorrowful days of letting go
in this season of endings soon the snow will be falling
its’ pale shades cloaking everything
and these bare branches will be the only colour I will be able to see
their skeletal fingers reaching to an empty sky
as the last leaves below, withering, fading away
and in their painfully slow, slow, demise
their frail beauty forever remains, under the darkest of skies
©Ann Bagnall