I see them burn in yellow, red and gold.
It's getting colder- pull me closer to you.

That tragic dance of dying leaves inspired so many songs.
I will sing one.

The artist & her canvas both hang- forgotten.
How brilliant, how transient-
she will be revered in the next century.

For now, I hold her in my ancient arms 
and dress her in shades of green.
Push my roots into her skin.
Finally, she's free

To decorate an evergreen in the middle of her living room floor
and watch it die for a month. 
Recreate the scenery of 1920's christmas cards and never ask why. 

See them burn in yellow, red and gold.
It's getting colder- pull me closer to you.
The tragic dance of dying leaves will be performed by us all. 

but that'll come later, because today we're still green. 

// (there is a brief moment of struggle before connection is made) //
// (you'll have to keep your eyes closed, so as not to be blinded) //