For we resemble,love, the annual flower

The red leaves of the tree are its last fling
Pretending to vitality and  power
Yet soon  the tree  is bared by  autumn winds

Winter waits, the blackbirds do not sing
The sunset is now earlier by the hour
The red leaves of the tree are its last fling

The tree will grow new leaves in sunny Spring
Showing  death and rebirth  in the bower
Despite   the tree  now stripped by the  strong wind

Like  the red leaves we   must never cling
For we resemble,love, the  annual flower
The red leaves of the tree  oh,let it fling

We fear the darkness,fear  demonic power
We falter  as we age , yet will not cower
The red leaves of the tree are its last fling
For soon  the tree  is undressed by the wind