Winter

Leaves
adrift,
swirling and twirling,
ensnared in
a gust
of wind.
Red and brown,
they have become,
and will soon
be
dust.

I peer at them,
hoping
for
glimpses of green,
and
memories of verdant
summery days.
Alas,
withered and lifeless
they are now,
dried out by the
carousel ride
of Life.
As is my spring,
ruptured
of bonds,
never to be replaced,
never to be healed.