Tea Leaves

Mangled leaves and withered dreams
Torn from their stable branches
In a final flurry of beauty
As they float down on a cold breeze
To join the Turkish rug of autumn.
There may yet be a child of wonder
Who makes a pile as tall
As their tree once was
And refuses to give up on them
As he leaps into their embrace.
But eventually, the snow will fall
Like a curtain on the stage
As the what-ifs and what-could-bes
Take a long, final bow
And melt away into the dull gray
Of the winter’s cold soil.

Tags: aspirations, autumn, dreams, imagery, poem, Poetry, winter