Cold December Eyes: Dark Love Poems

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The Leaf

I have cursed a thousand curses
I have cried a thousand tears
No more will I, no more will I
For you are dead, finally dead
Like the leaf of the oak who
Flutters from on high to rest
Down below in its grassy grave
Where wild storms will cover it
Bury it in the earth as it fades
Green to gray, green to gray
There may it feed the worms
So like the leaf that withers
I wish you the same glory
That you may find a purpose
Deep in the ground at last
You will lay, you will lay

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