The Autumn Leaves of Fall

She put on joy like a veil just to shade her tired eyes,
Letting happiness hang falsely from the face she tried to hide.
She’s as pale, as cold, as lifeless as the autumn leaves of Fall.

A dress concieved in sorrow dangles loosely down her form,
The attire of a widow cursed eternally to mourn.
She’s as pale, as cold, as lifeless as the autumn leaves of Fall.

White gloves that cover half her arm provide no warmth or heat.
And neither do the stockings, dark as midnight, on her feet.
She’s as pale, as cold, as lifeless as the autumn leaves of Fall.

Her chin is resolutely held as high as could be set,
A last wish granted her by the rope around her neck.
And she wavers in the trees just like the autumn leaves of Fall.

(Similar to an earlier poem I wrote, but more thought out and structured with a bit more of a theme.)

One Response to “The Autumn Leaves of Fall”

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