Poetry

The Changing Seasons

The leaves turn green to orange, yellow, red — and in the final fleeting moments as they wither they decay to brown until eventually dead. We lament the loss of beauty hither Read More

fall leaves

The leaves turn green to orange, yellow, red—

and in the final fleeting moments as they wither

they decay to brown until eventually dead.

We lament the loss of beauty hither

as the once vibrant trees stand naked and lost to time.

We admire the trees in their final moments

and claim them to be dead until springtime.

Then will we resume our great compliments.

Oh, Autumn, how have you’ve received such a bad rep?

Spring gets all the praise and fanfare,

While you are regarded as coming death, emotionally inept.

You’re regarded as hollow, empty, and full of despair.

While others may retreat once the stale air cools,

I find comfort knowing that we are not bound

By the chains of yesterday, only by our own rules.

fall leavesI see not death or decay in Autumn, there’s more I’ve found.

The trees that are proclaimed dead in winter’s reign,

Still stand through all of their ordeals.

They stand through the rain, the snow, the wind, and the pain.

Yet, once the Spring arrives, we only praise the leaves—

My friend, was this not too different, for you?

Like the trees, the only notice you after the struggle.

Ignoring ever step of the way, and part of life you had to juggle.

 

Dejected from the world in your hour of need,

Caught in the middle of dusk and dawn,

Cracks of moonlight doused the walk to hide or show the deed.

Who could say they saw strength in you when alone and withdrawn?

When needle in your trembling hand fell to the ground,

and not into your veins, and when you let me help you stand,

I knew you where stronger than anything in myself I have found.

 

I see beauty in the changing seasons, there is no value lost

when the trees shed their leaves, for just the same

will time strip us away of everything no matter the cost.

The feeling I feel when thinking of you, I’m not sure I can name,

But I believed in you and saw your worth even before sobriety,

Your struggles should not be jeered at in notoriety—

 

For the person inside of you that needed saving was always there waiting,

and in your seasons of fading, I too will be there waiting.

For the person who survived the storm,

should be seen after, with the same adorn.

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