Last Years Leaves
This poem was written for the NaPoWriMo daily prompt - Perennial.
Last Year's Leaves
Like bronze organza scraps
Upon a seamstresses floor;
Discarded pieces
Swept into a disused corner;
Creativity's after-thought-
They have no purpose now.
Old leaves,
Barely visible,
Trapped along the fence line
Scuttled along by the wind,
The drift of melting snow,
And time.
In another life,
They gleamed.
Strong, fresh, vibrant;
Leathery and green.
Fibres now dull.
They lay in reduced clusters.
Threadbare and fragile,
Transformed
Into mere ghosts of their former selves.
The emerald life blood
Does not pulse here
- New life sprouts above.
© Strauss
27th March 2007
5 comments:
Ooohhh! I really like this one. Hope you can turn some of that anger in the next post, into these dry old leaves!
Me too Kathleen, like you wouldn't believe. Thanks for the feedback;)
This poem sparkles, Strauss. :-)
Very insightful. I saw it as life and death.
they do have purpose though - they break down and the nutrients are reabsorbed by the plants! Lovely poem though especially the 'bronze organza scraps'.
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