(Decay)

Crows croak prophesies, Mumble-Jumble beatless music,

Surrounded - by the audience of empty chairs which spectates our conversation
face-to-face.
While the wide winged windy leaves fly around the sky,
and land on the land to unite like us -
Decaying over each other.
Crawling ants scavenging over us.
Crippled, hiding webs and cocoons - birthing new beings - we are not alone.
Every moment two are falling, awaiting their demise,
dying a natural death or crushed by footsteps.
Far away two swans sing, swooning, seeping, swaying
promises.
The peach distracts - stands out from the grey but
your seat forever as empty, stands before me.
Must I hear the calling, or May I still await you?
The withered dry foliages yet rain down,
Exemplifying me and you - we are not alone
But, do I hang on to our veins, waiting rejuvenation?
Or do I take the Leap of Fate?