Red, russet leaves
ashamed by the Fall,
there’s a change to be seen
in the air, overall.
From verdant green
to a red, russet rust.
Pray tell, my dear darlings,
what makest ye blush?
Whilst young and yet green,
you had cast a great sheen!
But now time hast passed us to older;
yet how thy flamboyance now befits!
Thy stature be flatters the beholder.
To wit, I must add,
for those bearing red,
well, simply put,
you all go too well my head!
It’s the colors, your colors, that I must confess,
which draws me so close and so near.
I’m drawn and enthralled to such tenderness.
This be the reason, and the only, I’m here.
Shush now! Hush now!
You must all be more quiet.
No fear! my dears,
you’ve no reason for fear.
For this, which I speak,
I won’t want others to hear.
It’s been such a long time,
since I have been here;
but it’s the habit of mine,
to return once per year.
Oh! these colors! such colors!
The colors are fine!
Shush, now dear loves,
we must be more quiet.
Relax, relax! please push not nor shove.
For I bring with me Love
that will make this all Right.
Now come, my dear darlings,
come follow with me;
for I have come a-calling
to set you forth free.
You’ve long hung around
to your bush and your tree;
and now, I confess,
this Lust that you see —
well,
there is no better Lover for thee, than me.
You have all been so bounded
and enslaved in a bondage,
too close the affiliation
and so stifling such ‘frond-age.’
So come along now,
come away with me.
Come hither, my darlings,
for I want you to see
that a Freedom is calling,
that you need to be Free.
That’s it!
That’s right!
You’re doing this well.
So soon you will be
all free for all time.
And with such shape shifting,
you’re free to be mine!
Now deep in the heart
of the dark of December,
all black and white,
with no color around,
twas the blaggerd
to which all colors surrendered,
that villainous filcher
that we call November.
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Copyright © 2011 Marvin Loyd Welborn. All Rights Reserved.