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.

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Fear becomes Reality.

Stiff and broken the tree falls in the river,

Dead silence comes with a silent quiver.

A vast nothing with no one to mourn,

To be depressed or to feel torn.

There’s no one left in the world to fear,

No need to cower at every strange noise I hear,

Or the terror that comes when using my voice,

Almost as if I want to stand up and rejoice.Read More »