Seasons of life

Do not step on the dead leaves

(bent veins still mourn their youth)

until they decompose

(an agony of memories still haunts their spine)

from vibrant green, to yellow, then to brown,

(in shriveled bodies laid on egotistic ground,)

do not step on their shadows on the pavement 

(the fizzled dust of once majestic highs)

they’re longing still for their long-forgotten roots

(while contemplating their futile life beneath your boots).

(Do no smash your life to ashes on this autumnal asphalt of the park.)

6 thoughts on “Seasons of life

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