Path of Leaves February 11, 2011
I walk on a path of leaves,
a path lined with trees withered.
The airs of self-image drift into the breeze,
leading softly into a storm weathered.
In a world devoid of black and white,
autumn grey makes for ironic sense.
Behind, ahead; comparisons bite,
poisoned with debilitating innocence.
I walk on a path of leaves,
Beneath me they cackle with laughter.
a path lined with trees withered.
The airs of self-image drift into the breeze,
leading softly into a storm weathered.
In a world devoid of black and white,
autumn grey makes for ironic sense.
Behind, ahead; comparisons bite,
poisoned with debilitating innocence.
I walk on a path of leaves,
Beneath me they cackle with laughter.