The Fallen Leaves

People are scattered like leaves in different parts of the world, some are without identity, others are trying to get along in communities which is against their beliefs

Through autumn to winter gooey grey haze 
Old trees bend and befriend scattering leaves, 
Wayside seeds sown on flora beds to raze
a shelter in cold shadows to quell edgy voices.

Hush stridden breeze wrapped in quaint quilt, 
Sublime upper decks waiting on the rainy crest, 
Keep shrubs looking green or the leafy leaves wilt 
Put beauty under our feet with angry spirits to rest.

Here appears in splendor bright posies of daffodils, 
Aspired yew trees spiraled holly into fresh growth, 
and roses adorn pathways and bedroom windowsill.
But leaves that are broke have use of seldom worth.

Our views tread carefully for here they are revile, 
Shady opinions startling some or the pompous few, 
diabolical voices ride supreme beneath the veil 
The truth of reality is snatched away before we knew.

Philosophy attractive for a while the smile they wore 
covers raise against the walls crawling slowly along 
in the cemetery, the hospitals, and the sentiments bore
life as it seems and the message left to make us strong.

Our people and religion in the pageantry entrench, 
when it draws a breath voices rise from the abyss, 
seeds of riches sleeping with thorns and wily ambush 
scattered souls by the wayside like the fallen leaves.