Samhain

by

Crystal Dawn Allen

Endlessly, the coloured leaves fall.
It is not their fault, nor mine, at all.
Who ordains that there be an end to leaves
and a passing of shadows over all that breathes?
It is but a hollow mystery
on which our spirits try to feed
but we bleed
instead
and feel the need
for the sensual pulse of an ancient creed.
But how long can I stand to stand in a room
with a witch's hat and a flying broom,
turning my face towards the moon
when I know it's been there, with or without
your drums and runes, your chants and shouts?
Call me what you will
for one day, i'll watch you fall
and on that day, you'll watch me crawl
beneath the leaves, though the trees stand tall
and it will be no fault of ours at all.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Visions Of Time Past
by: Sandra McDowell
from: Sylva, NC, US

To visit all of Crystal Dawn Allen's poems, click HERE

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