Vermillion leaves,
Fall from pale limbs aloft,
In death, true beauty.
Gently falling snow,
Turn harsh corners to soft mounds,
All life to a dream.
Smells of blossom-rains,
And the playful wind-whispers.
Let me go, lost days.
Man-made fields gleam green,
Baked into false-permanence,
‘neath Her mournful gaze.
Discarded Recollections 