The amber flare of falling leaves, drifting
Past a sea of red. We used to relish
In the scene: fields of brilliant green, fresh vines
Twisting and penetrating this nightmare.
We fell through the months, ubiquitous snow.
We tasted the last of years to come, gone.
The coldest and quietest of seasons.
It was once our dream, but is it still now?
The depths of winter were not enough to
Tear past flowers of our limited time.
We were reborn in an equinox, lush
Trees and, in blue skies, dancing clouds of glee.
Maybe it was us that abandoned this,
Or perhaps it was the time that claimed us.