The trees were singing to me again last night,
outside of my bedroom window,
I listened in the dark,
as the wind was playing the leaves,
like instruments, a beautiful song,
yet a sad serenade, of past glories,
colder weather was surely coming,
but there was hope,
of new life in the future, reborn.
Keep singing, new life will come,
all is not lost.
Poetry © Copyright 2014, nicodemasplusthree