My Dying Leaves

My dying leaves
the Autumn of my life
the Winter of what might have been

Maroon leaves crack and crumble in my hands,
dead before I touch them

I long for the place I cannot find,
the leaves know of not of this place I cannot find
Neither do I

Was it from the past or the future?
I cannot find it

The curtain may close before I get the chance

Sun Shower

Returning to a short sleep,
I served for another year.

My sister awakens warmth,
I am not without a heart.

She knows I often take time,
so slow to let the North go.

Before sleep, we often talk,
I do get carried away.

My sister knows it is time,
before sleep, a naughty smile.

She and I are creative,
we produce a sun shower.

Returning to dreams and sleep,
see you soon, my sister Spring.