The frozen leaves
Glazed in the rain barrel
And give them to you—
But, I give you this poem instead.
Words are leaves—
Colourful whispers,
Tiny scrolls
That breathed upon
Melt your heart;
I wish I could gather
All fluttering flags
And wave them for you
In a great huzzah
Until the sun blacks out.
But whether a shout,
A whisper,
A letter or scroll,
Doesn’t matter—
I can't take back words I said...
So, I give you this poem instead.