As the last dead leaf falls from a tall tree,
spiraling into piles upon the sleigh;
the sun drops into the furious sea;
time for the winter and darkness to play.
In a blasphemous act of regaling
Reach from the cold earth resting in your grave;
To the hate and lies forever-failing.
Recapturing the breath your mother gave.
A soul contains sonnets gifted to all.
serenades of sweet grace, beauty, and love.
Your life was born from decadence and sprawl
admit defeat and grasp wings of a dove.
Spend time reading a weathered, gray headstone
Float into the breeze, wandering alone.
Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran. A graduate from the Community College of the Air Force, he is a prize winning poet from New Hampshire, now residing in Oklahoma. Ken loves writing, coin collecting, thunderstorms, watching the stars and spending time with his rescue cats Willa and Yumpy.
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