Death of the Year

Wrote a long time ago, reposted from Mibba

Death, where is thy sting,

In those who are to stay?

Death, where is thy victory,

in those you take away?

Wind swirls among the gravestones

as the year slowly dwindles by.

Flying with the leaves, a warning

foretelling that the end is nigh.

Among the blooming apple trees

a little girl runs wild. 

Slowly fading into the twilight

for it is there she become death's child. 

The leaves turn green to gold 

as the leftover harvest falls. 

We can only wait for spring to come

if spring even comes at all. 

It comes and goes every year

as the fading sun shines upon them. 

A warning of inevitable end,

for the death of the year is autumn.