Conversations

i love the colors of autumn leaves, and watch as they descend
i miss the tones of voices past, and conversations with my friend

it’s strange to be so pale here, amongst the many browns.
like leaves on autumn trees I know, we all must touch the ground.

the road that lines our journey, is unique as falling leaves
the differences between us lies, because our eyes deceive

for if God see us differently, i know he sees my soul
in honest judgement i must say, you best me on the whole

and as my garden walk will end, so too our time expires
our soul moves on to better climes, as skin and bones retire

i love the colors of autumn leaves, and watch as they descend
i miss the tones of voices past, and conversations with my friend

Thinking of Byron Patterson 12-8-13