The leaves have fallen now to ground
in Seattle’s wonderland
and the clouds in mourning I would say
for what once was beautiful.
There was a reach and stretch
outward from the deep within
toward the unattainable
not perceived as such.
It was thought perhaps or maybe felt
the worthwhile surely couldn’t stay
far beyond love’s full display
of leaves on every tree.
But there was no meeting half-way
and the leaves had nowhere else to go
but down, down, down, onto the land
to lie as dead, dead, dead.
They are dead! They are dead
and the people simply walk on by
unmindful of that reach and stretch
that folded in upon itself.
So when the leaves lie on the ground
don’t look above for cloud support
because they cry, oh, how they cry
in mourning I would say!