Countless and blazing verdant were the leaves that sprung, buds of hope,
They clung, precariously, on to my skin, feeding on my sweat and tears,
Then some winds blew, with those frosty gusts, I watched them elope,
One by one they fell, as if sliced by a butcher’s knife, the cold metal smelted from my fears,
I protested, with my silent screams the air was rife, there was nobody around, no one to hear,
And yet they crumbled; those withering leaves, yet they fell,
Softly they floated, carried by unseen arms, ringing a death knell.
Many dreams visited my half-awakened mind,
Bright drops of mercury that I cupped in my hands in a shimmering pool,
But now, those oft-remembered wishes, I cannot find.
The winds of time speak; they call me a fool,
For this is how things must be, dreams die as a rule.
Trickle away you brilliant snakes, into memory’s depths, into its dark wells,
And rest there; while slowly fade the music of tolling, mourning bells.