Come down the greying newborn leaves
The wind will carry you to your graves
Keep late the vigil this advent eve
Tally the souls and silver saved
A piece of winter leavens the bread
That scrapes by legion northern mouths
Hungrier grown on prayers said
For the annual seats of those without
Many things were buried in the dissonant blue
The hardest words a soft goodbye
The leaves wave on something new
Though after the frozen filial tide.
@nepion_boreas17
