When death fell
Like Autumn leaves
Windswept cruel
From swaying trees
I painted a picture
Made up of words
Treasured hidden
Away from cares.
As Winter came
The leaves now gone
The cold hard ground
Which had become
A landscape deep
Etched in mind
Those very same words
Reached for and found.
As Spring arrived
Its coloured hand
Swept in new life
Upon the land
Now I see
The death was mine
The picture painted
Words in rhyme.
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Author:
nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson) (
Offline) - Published: April 23rd, 2026 01:33
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 6
- Users favorite of this poem: arqios, Friendship
Offline)
Comments4
Good write N. Did you paint that picture at the bus stop?! lol.
I saw my death there , been waiting that long lol
A wonderful poem of writing and creation. Nicely written
most kind, thanks and appreciation
You are most welcome
Another favourite, Norman. I will visit the gallery in summertime, the aircon will help appreciate the beauty of the art. 🙏🕊️
most kind, thanks always much appreciated
Well written. Your poem explores the cyclical nature of life, death, and rebirth, particularly through the seasons.
thanking you, always much appreciated
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