A poem for the Fall

I've been enjoying the gorgeous fall weather over the past few days and was reminded of this poem I wrote, oh so many years ago... in looking back at it now, I'm not a fan of the title, but somehow feel obligated to it... after all I did write it my senior year of college, and I'm sure I was feeling rather sentimental or something... anyway, here it is, a poem for Fall.

Nearing the End

Wet crumpled leaves

saffron and crimson shapes

litter the charcoal colored path.

“Fall really is the best season”

I think

as I walk through the rain

towards an insignificant destination.

The colors are reminiscent of change

and today it seems nice,

this change.

I take it in stride,

I actually crave it.

Yesterday I was wishing

I could hold on to these moments a little longer.

All moments a little longer.

I thought

“Who really likes change anyway?”

and then I remembered that I do.

I look at the fallen foliage

and wonder

how something so close to its end

can be so beautiful

stepped on and over looked,

raked up and forgotten.

Wet discarded leaves

on the charcoal colored path.