Here comes the rain

of auburn leaves

guarding the ground

day and night.

Merciful in their presence,

they bear as silent witness

to the echoes and shadows

prancing to the moon song.

When day time comes,

the land grows quiet

hiding a trail of

Crimson stained handprints

buried under the leaves.

The wind comes

carrying pleas of

the restless ones

under an unmarked ground.

It whispers of things

seen and unseen

before misery plays on repeat.

Pic of my poem @lettrs