Les Feuilles Mortes

Shimmering in the fading light,
The autumn leaves fall to the ground,
Painting a kaleidoscope of vivid colors,
They mingle with the scarlet of spilled blood.

Evening comes and I tremble in the dark,
The sun now a distant memory.
My tears are cold while the rage runs hot
As I lay motionless on the forest floor.

Inside me, the burning intensifies.
My vision darkens, yet still I see the leaves
Dance upon the wind, the gentle sway of them
A beautiful lullaby for me to sleep.

"Les feuilles mortes," I whisper to the trees.
Abandoned leaves in all their glory,
Brilliant, delicate, admired too late.
Fine company, indeed.