The Harbinger

As night cast the pall of dark,
She sat by her window and stared,
She stared at the majestic tree outside,
With leaves of flaming color and glow.

Her mind wandered to her sick grandpa,
As he lay weak and frail in bed,
The energy drained out of him by age,
Yet flaming with the wisdom of life.

She watched the tree every night,
Watched the leaves turn yellow,
Watched the leaves turn red and fall,
Watched his cheeks grow pale.

The autumn wind and rain brought messages along,
The harbinger of death and decay,
The harbinger of the harsh cold winters,
The harbinger of fresh life and more.

As she woke up in the morning,
She saw that he was devoid of color,
She saw that he breathed no more,
She saw the stillness in his body,
She looked out to see the tree bare naked,
Alas, Autumn had consumed them both.