Nuttelia

I watch the leaves carry on, floating with the spiraling wind. Burnt orange blurs in the twilight. Whispering despaired farewells as they go. Oh sorrow of a tattered goodbye, And the frozen jagged edges of an empty tree. Bitter endings are an everlasting ice. I follow through the barren forest, And catch a fallen streak of autumn hues to hold on to for the lonely days. To cherish the most cherished of memories. Mother wind has a power as great as a thousand hungry sparrows fly, And leaves crumble to the strength of wings. Burnt orange dust rains from the silver horizon. And disperses to the winds desire Goodbye to the beautif