Capturing a Cliché

The sun kissed the autumn leaves

On its way into my room

Now it is a shy shade of pink

There for an hour

Gone by noon

 

I want to capture it

Frame it on my wall

Mount it on a pedestal

Roll it in a ball

For me to keep

 

My fingers flirt with the keyboard

I try to write it a new life

A sorry reflection

An epitaph

A blunted knife

 

The words come to me

Like the leaves

Floating in gentle arcs

Against an autumn breeze

Gorgeous and dead