Barren trees like broken spirits vestige of the days gone by, limbs like empty arms, extended dangling twigs cling with a sigh.

Gathered leaves just like our memories rustling, crunching in our mind fluttering in our sub-conscious to be whisked by father time.

Ghostly shadow, face of winter dusting lofty pines with frost. Sturdy firs, like arduous children that endure what are the cost.

Everything that once had color has regressed to murky brown. Amber has gone out of fashion
rust rejected with a frown.

Once we were like oaks at springtime sprouting, blooming leaves so bright. Now we're left like broken spirits in the Autumn of our lives.