by Michael Skinner

Created on: September 05, 2009   Last Updated: October 05, 2009

When memories in the shape of leaves fell from the tree tops,

they were tinged with remembered fire.

It was pleasant at first.

So many trees.

So many leaves.

So many memories.

So much fire.

You could look about and see cool autumnal fires glowing in green lawns.

But at the first frost,

the trees grew naked,

and the fire leaves faded,

and the memories grew few,

and so we heaped the dregs in piles like war dead,

and burned them to within an inch of their very lives...

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