The Autumn Trees.

As she sits on her chair watching the leaves change,

The feeling of joy seems somewhat strange,

People below are always to busy to notice,

Its beauty is being appreciated by the poetess.

All she can see is the magnificent autumn trees,

How they dance in the slightest hint of a breeze,

The road below her is busy and congested,

But when she stares out she always feels rested.

The colours are turning Auburn, Orange, and Red,

Purple and Yellow leaves like a canvas in her head,

Calming her whenever thoughts become overpowered,

Steadying her nerves when she feels like a coward.

Whenever she fears to look at the outside world,

Darkness drags her down to the underworld,

She looked at the trees from her window,

It’s brought her back home from Limbo.


This poem is about my own window, ever since I moved house a few months ago these trees have helped me to cope with the complete change, I’ve gone from a quiet village to the main street between towns.

It has been an adjustment for someone who gets scared at the slightest noise, especially having a cafe downstairs has been difficult. But I’m so much happier here than I ever was in the quiet village.

A bit of land across from my flat that is filled with trees, I am closer to shops so I can become more independent, and the house isn’t filled with dampness and broken heaters.

It’s amazing what we can do when we push ourselves.

Thanks for reading,

Em.

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