More; no less.

A simple, short - completely metaphorical poem that my father wrote. Presumably about growing older.

^More no _less

Wind blown, empty trees.
Morning has come and left me, one less.
Remember when there were leaves.

Christmas is coming, they say?
I hide in early spring,
but sneak into late May.

June through August, the cold is done.
Midday has come and left me, one less.
Hiding in the dark avoiding the sun.

Leaf blown, debris, redden the ground.
Evening has come and left me, one less.
October has stolen Summer's dress, it drops with a rustling sound.

Shadow's deepen, the light as my courage run.
Night has come and left me, one less.
Hiding in the dark wishing for the sun.

Tomorrow will come, ice melting, puddles by my door.
Morning has come and not left me.
Spring is coming, they say? I pray one more.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

I'm with you. I'm looking forward to spring. A excellent poem. Description and story was very good. Good to meet you.
Coyote

[C.L. Wilson]

Lovely use of metaphors. I like how you describe where you are in each season and indeed we do grow old, but fate is fate.

[Vrushali Ohatker]

Good one! Accepting the fact that we're growing old and so living in the present...grabbing each moment in hand and embracing it 'cause the next moment it will be-*one less*. Superb! Makes me want to brace myself for I've got this moment to live!! Lovely!! :)