A tree sways in the dying light
Shadows cast in sporadic directions
Deep howls echo from within the forest
Leaves fall to the grown with a dignified grace
Grass plots are turning white
Dirt piles mush together in a muddy delight
Dust devils that have no dust relay the knip air
A traveling man shivers in the falls cold blare
Bundled tightly in his tattered clothes
The old man who wanders goes
With a passion unkindled he walks aimlessly
He walks as the light begins to aside
Walking along he passes the swaying tree
A leaf flows to the mans feet
He hears a howl coming from the forests deep
From there he steps on the grass plots turning white
To end up in the dust devils cold knip tight
He keeps walking till the sunsets down
Laying out a blanket he decides to settle around
Staring a fire he becomes very tired
The thoughts of his empty passion keeps him awake
For the man wants to.live his life without having any regrets
©kamen1
K