Death in Colour

The leaves dangle,

Drooping from gnarled branches,

Shivering in the cold.

Their veins grow brittle

Against the bitter, biting frost,

And break.

They are lost to the wind.

Forsaken.

Scattered across the land,

They are trodden,

Trampled.

They huddle together,

Seeking decay in familiarity,

In the curling arms of others

Withered by weather.

Our feet smear their cheeks with dirt,

Wishing them death in colour.