The same leaves over and over again!
They fall from giving shade above
To make on texture of faded brown
And fit the earth like a leather glove.
Before the leaves can mount again
To fill the trees with another shade
They must go down past things coming up.
They must go down into the dark decayed.
They must be pierced by flowers and put
Beneath the feet of dancing flowers
However it is in some other world
I know that this is the way in ours.