(C) 2021, Pamela Schloesser Canepa
When the leaves fall
Is it the dying of a tree?
Or is it merely a sign of change
And what one day shall be?
Ghosts of yesterday
Get trampled into the ground
They willfully move on
For something new to come round…
When leaves fall, oh so brittle,
Yet colorful and bright
A reminder to grab hold
Of our spark before
The descent of night.
Every change brings something new
Every night brings morning dew.
Every moment holds its gifts.
I’m grateful for those I didn’t miss.