When all the leaves

Photo©Tiia Monto

922px-leaves_on_ice

When all the leaves have fallen,

The gold all turned to lead,

Will all the lies be spoken

And all the liars dead?

Will winter turn to springtime,

The branches green again,

Or will our loves be washed away

In cold and heartless rain?

Birds still flock the treetops,

Stark black beneath the sky,

While sorrow drifts before my eyes,

Flint-faced, my tears are dry.

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Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

19 thoughts on “When all the leaves”

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