A bed of Leaves
We strolled, I don't remember where now;
time plays such funny tricks that places
blend and all the colours mix together,
I can't high tune my hectic senses.
We talked about death, as stray drops
spattered through the trees, it was
Autumn and we walked a bed of leaves.
The dogs ran before us, making piles
of underfoot debris fly, just to fall, the
silent echo in a wood somewhere.
They say the mind blocks out,
protects us from ourselves, but oh
if I could just walk again with you;
instead I only dream of ghostly trails.
We talked of death, you held my hand
it was Autumn and the ground was covered;
Our steps muffled, walking on a bed of leaves.
Poetry by Elle
Read 77 times
Written on 2020-10-26 at 16:57
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