Swept (Poetry)
29th November 2006
The season’s done — they’ve had their day
redundant, spent — they face decay
so unresisting, they accept —
no protest as they’re raked and swept.
No going back — their heyday’s past
youth’s thrusting vigour couldn’t last
its green blood drained, now rain-soaked gold
each withered body shrunk with cold.
As daylight fades, the curtains drawn
fresh corpses crowd the frosted lawn
the year has turned, old rituals kept —
the sacrificial leaves are swept.
redundant, spent — they face decay
so unresisting, they accept —
no protest as they’re raked and swept.
No going back — their heyday’s past
youth’s thrusting vigour couldn’t last
its green blood drained, now rain-soaked gold
each withered body shrunk with cold.
As daylight fades, the curtains drawn
fresh corpses crowd the frosted lawn
the year has turned, old rituals kept —
the sacrificial leaves are swept.