Autumn

A poem on aging

Photo by Joy Scrogum

It seems like only yesterday
That the sun was in the sky,
Winter was so far away
The birds were flying high.
But now the sky grows cold and gray,
And Nature breathes a sigh,
To see the birds fly away
And watch the flowers die.

The leaves are falling to the ground
The wind is growing cold,
The air is still — without a sound
The earth is growing old.
As I pause to look around,
I feel no longer bold
For with each leaf that’s falling down
I am growing old.

The air turns bitter around me
And I can see my breath,
With every object that I see
I am reminded of death.
What happened to the buzzing bee?
To its humming I am deaf.
What happened to the shady tree?
It too has met its death.

The autumn wind is blowing,
And life is rushing by,
The tears of age are flowing,
For all God’s children die.
I stand here…