Scent of Memories

Seems I always come to find
how it lingers in my mind —
the scent of memories I remember
haunting each and every November

The musty breath of fallen leaves
how my heart again still grieves
for all that I have once more lost
again weighed down by its cost

With these branches stripped so bare,
along with how I used to care
for the lushness once in spring,
back when I cherished everything

Before Death finally came to stay,
refusing to speak all she will say
about the ending of this life —
its fleeting joy and lingering strife

Neither a friend nor a foe,
never sharing what she does know
about the meaning of these scents —
each one a lament she never prevents