Fallen Leaves

I mourn lost poetry like fallen leaves of the last great tree
flowing away in the wind.
Dry tears drop swiftly
Crisply
My children
Never to be seen again
Painstakingly I conceive these worded dreams simultaneously during my daily symphonies
But there are no sympathies for a piece lost and unheard
Dealt an early death falling on death ears
It appears that my mind keeps going
words keep flowing
But forgotten were the files that could never be written the same way again
Never to enhance the same experience
never to be performed in a word dance
I trance as I long for the worded dreams that never washed up on my tongue's shore
Will never reach ears parallel to mine or another minds core
It pains me to lose thee
So unceremoniously
This feeling I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy
For there are no ambler alerts for lost poetry
No news coverage for that little iambic pentameter piece about lost loves and tree canopies
No thousand mile manhunts over the Pacific seas for 100 words that might have comforted a single mother who can't find money to buy food for her kids to eat
After I Painstakingly conceived these worded dreams during my daily symphonies
Still no sympathies for pieces lost and unheard
But as a writer we're expected to churn out more words
Displaced in rhythms recited methodically
Sound poetry quite the anomaly
Without an artist whose seen his seeds flow in the brees
Just to mourn lost poetry like fallen leaves of the last great tree