Like
the leaves
On
the trees
You
hold on
Not
wanting to
surrender
To
the barrenness of
winter
Nor
open to the blossom
Of
spring
The
sun sets,
softening
But
you remain brittle
The
breeze gently teases
trying
to pry you off
the
spindly branch
Yet
you remain fixed
Neither
yielding
Nor
thriving
Even
the autumn glow
Has
faded
You
remain fixed
Fixed
to the moodiness
Of
your season
Poem:
© Penelope Mavor 2015
Image: own
