A Crime of Metamorphosis

A poem that I wrote about death.

A Crime of Metamorphosis

Leaves are fallen.

Leaves are wet.

Leaves are brown.

I've been left.

And though there's no pain,

I'm scared as it begins to rain.

Dusk is here and yet no more fear,

has come to me this eve.

For this is the end or so I think.

Tis time for me to one last blink.

I'm all alone for the wind and moon.

For the forest floor is my frosted tomb.

Autumnal decay is all around.

Come day I might not be found.

For then tis too late. 

I now see my morbid fate.

Perhaps I'm not ready.

Perhaps I'm in doubt.

Perhaps this is it.

Perhaps my time has run out. 

One last breath I now draw out.

For when spring comes.

I shall thaw out.

And though my body you may not see.

But perhaps a tree.

A tree I shall be.

alexborderie

Author's Note

This is a poem that I wrote about a dream that I had where i was left for dead out in the middle of the forest.