I look amongst the fire-leaves,
search in autumn skies.
Where is the answer to this fall?
How long before I join the masses
of colour riots on the ground?
The winter drains the life,
sucks the energy
from me.
Sapped;
I wither,
emptied;
I surrender.
But somehow I still hope
you will be there 
to catch me,
that you'll reach with cupped hands,
that you'll snatch me from cold skies.
Somehow I still believe
you will breathe light
back into me,
that you'll be
my lifesource.
Yet I am mistaken.
Just another one 
of the fallen.