Autumn Leaves Fall

Autumn Leaves Fall

As she slowly coasts through the faded streets,
taking turns lightly, effortlessly following the curves of the road,
the Autumn leaves begin to change—from green to yellow and soon to red.
The same pattern over and over again, predictable just as before.
They fall from the trees, slowly blowing in the gentle wind.
Almost touching the ground, a gust of wind spins the leaves higher,
swirling them around in dance, pairing the red with the yellow.
A seemingly friendly tango turns into a rage of jealously
when the daffodil-shaped leaf bumps into a green leaf.
Red’s rage boils over turning him a darker shade of red,
as she whirls away looking for safety.

Raindrops fall heavily, darkening the pavement ahead,
distracting her from the lives of the leaves.
They splatter on the windshield, blurring her vision,
she blinks and flicks the switch to wipe the rain away.
Like hands to a face, they flip back and forth,
trying to rid the shield of tears, but this endless battle of rain ensues.
On the highest speed, the wipers cannot fully erase,
for the memories have already been made, the damage has already been done.

She arrives at her house, once considered a home, now yields no happiness.
A song sounds in the background and she absentmindedly hums along,
“She lies and says she’s in love with him, can’t find a better man…”
Unbuckling her seatbelt, she gets out of the car,
and walks toward the house, knowing exactly what lies beyond the door.
She turns the knob, takes a deep breath, and steps inside.

From red to orange, Autumn begins to wither at her edges,
thrown on the ground into the pile frightened leaves,
she’s like a dying leaf crumpled up in someone’s hand,
now so fragile, so helpless, so lost.

Autumn is fading with every shallow breath.
She’s slowly breaking away from Fall,
Barely able to move, she waves goodbye, closes her eyes,
and Autumn leaves Fall.

Amanda J.
I like to write and read and play the guitar. I play hockey at my school. I'm a lesbian and an activist. I attend college for Psychology and Women's Studies and plan to go on to Graduate School. I currently reside in the Pittsburgh area. E-mail me with questions or comments.


  • My Morning Story

    I couldn’t help but think in the beginning about the movie American Pie. I think thats the name of it anyways. Well there is a scene my old guitarist used to love – Where the weird neighbor that shoots videos of everything, made a video of a plastic bag floating in the wind.

    very beautiful like, always reminds me of fall for some reason. I guess cause the light gusts, and the colorss 🙂 very nice 🙂 anywho, I loved the poem.

    • Amanda J.

      Yess! I know what movie you’re talking about, not sure if it is American Pie or not. Thank you for the kind words. 🙂

  • Raven

    …..Smi9884, I was initially set to discuss Autumn leaf emotions (lines such as “A seemingly friendly tango turns into a rage of jealously”, “Red’s rage boils over”) until I came across “she’s like a dying leaf crumpled up in someone’s hand, now so fragile, so helpless, so lost” and was completely blown away. I fell in love with your imagery to the point of near distraction. You have just painted Sorrow so simplistically and raw that its Beauty is effortless. You will go far, Poet!

    • Amanda J.

      Wow. Thank you so much. Your comment made me a little teary-eyed. It means a lot to me that you like my poem. I am working on a lot of poems and hoping to publish a book in a few months. 🙂

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