Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

The wind whips itself into a hurling disk,
Twisting and turning as it is tossed,
Swirling through trees as high as the sun.
Leaves are falling like snow, piling up to the sky.
I’ve fallen down, being held tight like with a rubber band.
Leaves are covering me, weighing me down.
I must stand against the wind.,
But the leaves and debris swirling over me
Will not let me up.
I try to fight back, but I’m as weak as a baby.
Has it been a thousand years or a lifetime?
My head is in a football being pounded.
My bones have the ache of an old lady.
Will I finally be set free, free from life’s turmoil.
Will the lights be shut out by death?
Will I gain strength and hurl myself on--
On to greater strength?  I lay there sleeping,
At peace, waiting, waiting, waiting.

© Copyright 2001.09.29 by Jean E. Gorney