The Orchard at Harvest

I stand amongst the victims of autumn

The fiery reds, the sunburst dead

Beneath my feet

The thousand ripening dreams

On each tree, this orchard bears

A thousand promises, it seems

All sweet, perfect, and awaiting their

Inevitable deaths, I walk amongst these

Countless paths, admiring each

In passing, desiring all

I touch every fruit before it falls

In this orchard where all comes to pass

All are heaven on the branch

Before they're stained by their descent

So distant seems that fate then

So entrancing is the sensation

That I wouldn't dare spoil them

Yet couldn't care to catch them

And waiting for the last fruit to fall

Among these countless distractions

I missed the sweetest of all

Hung by the flimsiest branch

Ripe for the taking, patiently waiting

For me to notice

I didn't, and since then

I've been sinking my teeth into

The filthy and rotten

Devouring each to the core

Wanting no more

Than to taste what I have lost

A dream from a season

Covered in dust

By my negligence, and yet

Whose seeds saw fit, to sprout a tree again

Now years have passed, and I stand

Amongst the victims of a new autumn

A thousand ripening dreams

And one perfect fruit hung precariously

From the branches of a widower's memory

This harvest, I promise

I will not let you fall again.