Autumn Leaves

AUTUMN LEAVES.

Red hair falling in curls to her waist.

Green eyes, windows to her soul

The delicate skin of an Irish Rose.

Loving all was her only goal.

She would sit under the winter white tree.

The tree that never flowered.

That tree was cold, stark and knarled.

Over her body it towered.

One day she was called by the wise woman of the woods.

She was told she was needed to trap mice.

But when she arrived she soon discovered,

She was the human sacrifice.

She begged and pleaded to no avail,

Suggested they take another.

One of the old ones, surely not me?

It was either her or her brother.

Her brother was younger, strong and alive.

She loved him above all else.

Her parents had died when she was but a girl,

In a boat on the river Shelse.

Turmoil inside her churned like butter,

If she only had wings she'd fly.

But in order to save her only kin,

She knew she must prepare to die.

What a waste now she's gone,

With her lovely red hair full of autumn leaves,

Now she is gone, now she is no more,

And all of the forest grieves.