Covered in Dust
The roses, I no longer mourn
They blew, in the wind from the north
I leave them a day and they’re gone
They leave without saying goodbye
The sun though is bright has no warmth
So the garden is starting to tire
Like a painting so covered in dust
That the colours look faded and dry
There are no spider webs in the morning
Silky marvels of circular art
Autumn cleans for a new generation
There’s no time to stand idly by
And we must pack away for the winter
To remove all the clutter we collect
For the children are coming behind us
They are readied, so now we can die.