Like Autumn Touched Leaves

Memories, of a moonlit orchard; Of Apple trees and grass a shimmering green. Moving pictures of still water rising, And hands clasped in silent prayers. Memories of twinkling church bells, Of sunlight shining through the brush. The land of promise, Of silence serene, The land where lads once played. Sheep clouds caressed the shineless Sun, As rain rippled the morning brook. Wasn't there an Ocean blue beneath raven hairs? And the glint of cherry under a hill of flesh? But all fell like Autumn touched leaves, Swept away by a wind so calm. Weathered memories like realities faded, As he saw the stone upon his palm. Snatched away from his hills and waters, He gazed upon the silent lands. Blackness swallows the evening sun, And night falls upon the floor of sand. And then the rain begins to fall, Washing over a barren terra broken. The lonely white tree sheds it's tears, And as the last leaf fell from wet branches, Winter was come again. And still the memories... The Memories...