Rustling Leaves

Sitting ‘neath the elm
Eyes bent in a slumbering setting
Hands purposely resting on my knees
It is right now, oh yeah…total oblivion
The nature of my cares are made simplistic
As the wind begins to play on the over ripen leaves
Leaving a melody that crescendos, well at least carries over
From one elm to the next, then a maple,
Before gently resting on the arms of the sycamore
My hair ever so slightly mussed
Lips less damp press into a smile, cracking only slightly
I breathe in the song and my cup the melody has brimmed
Though the words are not decipherable the language is clear
Enjoy me while you can, my time is nearly at its end
For there are other songs to sing, though not as sweet,
They are necessary