First, you turn wicked shades of red
Deep oranges intermingled with
Beautiful, bright, bursts of brilliant yellow--
A permanent sunset cascading
    from mountain high
    to valley low.
Of colors, rich with ripened wisdom
Grown from branches older than time.

Then, in the frost of chilled winds
You wither,  shrivel away and rot--
A masterpiece lost to the world
Well-wished whispers whisked away
     walked over with heavy feet
     stamped and buried in thick soil
And forgotten in the nakedness
Of crooked branches erected high.