Leaves

Leaves

I see the yellow leaves depart by now.
Above the highest branches they swing an fly
So softly and swiftly through a trembling trot.
Why?

Why does the ravenous winter devour all?
All the remaining beauty of spring time
And summer shine. The green grass
Turned into a white present of a forgotten past
A memory of lost memories,
A memory of lasting sighs.

Why do I still stand upon this land
Where there is nothing more for me?
I`ll go now.

But wait! What I see?
Is there another leaf upon that tree?
A lonely sign of youth's demise.
Let me stand and contemplate.
Before the sadder days and winter grieves,
Before this last remaining leaf of mine
Leave.

The Old Man

The Old Man

I see him on his chair
Under the sun, the same sun
That for countless ages gone
Had shone and have shone
On the mariner's stare

Leaned back on his chair
Fixed eyes, gazing eyes
Lost in a sea of sighs
Sorrows that his soul defies
Remembrances that his years bear

Reclined on his chair
Enclosed by walls, stone walls
Whose past strength now falls
For the ocean now recalls
And balm floats in the air

Resting quietly on his chair
Leaning back, looking back
At the ruins, at the wrack
Before the day turn black
I see him on his chair