Silenced

Leaves lose colour and dry,

their veins remain...

like roots of a dead tree,

like glimpses of a half-forgotten dream,

no rain will be the elixir
no spring will fill their colour,
the leaves are now just a sound
a rattle when a breeze blows past
they decay, they escape into the soil
the tree that they helped to grow
the rain and the spring
have abandoned them,
after autumn's threat came
with the messenger wind,
but there is no pain of scarred memories
after all, what is pain in death?

...it is as if the breeze has frozen
the chilling silence has taken over the mellow rattle of the leaves...