Of all the little things we use to do.
But as the leaves turn yellow,
I know we are threw.
As the cold approaches to warn,
I remember that you are gone.
It is December and the leaves continue to fall,
Your warmth and laughter is what you promised me
You said it would never leave me, yes not at all.
You said you would stand by me strong, almost like this tree, or don’t you recall?
As the brittle leaves crack under my feet
I know it is over and I must not weep.
I lay my head on the rough bark stalling,
Waiting to see if you will return
Hoping my name is what you will be calling.
I hear the soles of your leather shoes and I know you are coming.
I turn around and face you.
Your eyes are the first thing I see, but they look all but mellow.
You say we are threw
And I reply “Thank you.”
As I wake from my dream and notice the picture drawn,
I realize my future is my present, and like these old brittle leaves, my past is gone.