Crimson leaves upon the vine;
Partakers of your suffering love.
Soon to drop, and fall, and die,
Bearing life into the earth.
Memories of former days,
When in your light the life blood flowed;
sounds of jay –
Celebration of the spring.
Winter white shall shroud your passing,
Covering o’er the mournful death;
Only time can reawaken,
Bursting forth new life at last.
~ Anna Lin