When the Leaves Fall

A Tribute to Allen Ward
And to Wanda Sowder
By Walt Yetter

When The Leaves Fall

Autumn leaves around my feet, rustling dry and brown.
Stirring slightly from the breeze, cold is its chill
and emptyness is its gift for now.

Soon the snow will cover and the chill will grow to
be unbearable; loneliness has always been its master.
Hearts and hope to it surrender, some for a season,
and some for all time.

Memories are found in the leaves around me.

I can still see the trees as they were not so long ago,
and the breeze that stirred them then carried sunshine as
its fragrance, and hope was the music of its sound;
yesterdays and tomorrows are its companions in flight.

Who can say when it changes directions?
Do we really want to know?
Why do we take it so personal when the leaves fall?

by Walter Lee Yetter