A SYMPHONY OF POETRY | ONE

This is my symphony of poetry
I like to write
And this shall be a history.

Tomorrow will bring
Much sorrow and pain
But that is just the way of things.

You chose to die
And so did I
When our lips touched that fruit

In Eden
Way off
In the distance.

And so the leaves fall –
One by one
And three by two –

And though we don’t hear it
We all know
Even in our own homes
And own rooms,

We know that their fall
Represents us
And our slow quiet dying.

I have moved in their existence.
The leaves fall silently every year
All around me.

Down goes one
Right on time.

Down goes two
Right behind.

After seven long years
Their silent sway down
Has begun to really wear on me.

Now when I dare step outside
I feel the forest is alive
Shaking and trembling in expectation.

Their branches stretch wide
Covering a great divide
Between me and the souls around me.

Tick, tick, tick
I hear their limbs say
Tick tick tick

And suddenly I know
Inside and out
That each branch is the claw on a clock.

And that clock is ticking
Tock tick.
And the trees are swaying
Rock to chalk…

Rock wil turn to chalk
Before I know it.
The whole forest tries to mock me.

Oh! How art thou beautiful!
I once used to say
To the endless hands

Of the endless clock.

Why did I move into
disaster’s timepiece?