(written October 2025)

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Autumn winds bring looming clouds.
As falling leaves blow through my mind,
scattering my thoughts.
Upon the earth , my matter lies, I sweep with
a broom to make neat piles.
What matters most?
What cannot be changed?
Both piles look the same.
Until it rains.
In a whirlpool of emotions,
I am drowning, without a plug to stem the flow.
I must rest my weary soul.
I allow myself to drift on pillows of gold.
Upon my return, I find the soil has claimed the leaves.
What matters most is now gone.
That cannot be changed.
And I realise, life will always be bittersweet

Copyright © 2025 Maggie Watson
All Rights Reserved