Leaves

Leaves fall quietly,
Drifting to and fro
Never reaching heights
Merely blowing, forever,
Pawns of the Winds
Children of the Storm
Ashes for the morrow.
Sweet ashes, from
The Winds of Change
At once hidden
From the passing rain
Laying, sodden,
Wanting to become
The ashes of our lives
I, too, am a leaf
Sodden, blown,
Walked upon by the feet of Time
I too am ashes
Awaiting rebirth,
To roar amongst
The Winds of Change

© Copyright 1996 Roger A. Lipe

First appeared in the anthology
"Essence of a Dream"
Editor's Choice Award
National Library of Poetry
1996

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