About the Poem
I was walking around my college campus this last fall, through the leaves, and the smell of the leaves evoked this poem.
Olives |
| by Wendy Flora |
| They say that the season of death is winter... They are wrong. It is the fall. Fall is when everything dies... Leaves turn and fall Grass withers Flowers fade. They say the color of death is black... They are wrong. The colors of death are red And brown And gold. When I'm walking alone Through the leaves, I think on this. I always thought that rotting leaves Smell like olives. |
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1 Visitor Comments
Bill
You put alot of feeling in this while you were out walking in the leaves is what it made it so great
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