A poem by Adam Pitas

Grassy horizons green, your summer pastures seem free,

Why do I see the trees shedding leaves ahead of me?

Dead leaves pass me by, drawn by fate infected highways,

Suddenly so cold, I wish I could see the byways.

Yet I have to keep the speed up, so I don’t arrive too late,

For a previous appointment that I sealed as my fate.

Can the sunshine see me, do rays even feel the flakes,

Or are they all just smothered by clouds of past mistakes?

Coldness takes pain away and freezes all the shed tears over,

Fixation, desperation, cold determination take over.

I’ll freeze the leaves to pieces, clear broken shards, maybe stumble,

Let all my creepers die in ice, for frozen dreams don’t crumble.