Bodies of Fallen Leaves

Sunk are the spirits of the living.
Every step desecrates a noble memorial
for what we race against.

Time has turned these bodies brown
It proceeds at will.
Just wait, time is merciless.
It will show no patience.

The seasons rush us onwards.
Water, rake, shelter, prune
Did I stop and share in nature's communal solitude?
Was I in deep slumber at the awakening?

Every drop of remorse
lingers in the dehydrated leaves.
Pledge with each crunching footstep
that the bodies of fallen leaves
will receive a dignified burial.