"Spirit of the seasons"

"Constructive criticism wanted"

The last of winter's leaves, 

Cling onto dead branches.

I watch them being stripped away from their homes,

with every freezing gust of wind.

Why do I envy dead leaves, falling away from their homes?

Maybe the tress were never actually a home.

But a prison, holding innocent leaves captive until they die and crumble to nothing.

Where would these pieces of nature's broken spirit fall?

In a pile, waiting to burned to ashes?

Is it possible for one, just one, to ride the breeze to where grass is still green,

Out on the West coast?

Probably not, for the same reason Red Bull could never actually give us wings.

Because wings are for the birds, and planes.

And leaves are for the trees, and rakes.

One day though, I'll trade my dead leaves for green palm leaves under the sun.

Whether my angel wings carry me there, 

or when I first ride on a big jet plane.

I've heard sin is fun for a season, and when the season is over, I'm left with nothing.

But a life with you would be fun for infinity.

Slamming the doors on the ghosts from our past.

And living forward, spreading good news of faith, hope, and love.

Thankful for my family, and my beautiful wife. 

When my day comes, I'll be standing in blue.

Spring is around the corner, 

The seasons stay the same, 

every year, the same circle of life stuck on repeat.

But "what a life" is what you taught me.

I thank you for that.

 

Reviews

[lua]

i love this, the questioning of the most simple feature of life, something we take for granted happening every year, really well expressed