Window

Through the invisible barrier, I see;

Twisted, magical dances of leaves,

With vibrant visions which only nature can procure,

Views of ordered chaos emerge.

Their quiet departure of their solemn home,

Are accompanied with the wind's gust and moan,

One of crimson red spins quickly, as if a bloated star;

One of sickly yellow floats lazily as if a lethargic drunkard.

The mournful golems with their blank stare,

Stretch their horrid limbs in the chill air,

Where creatures seek solace and care,

However, they don't seem to know that the Leviathan's soul is bare.

Such is mother's way to say,

That her festive mood has gone away,

Her youthful figure has been wiped away

With only her decrepit, yet judicious, ways left.