Souls

I watch a dozen leaves or so
out circling on the drive;
reminding me of people who
no longer are alive.

To be content, they'll money earn.
They'll dress the part and bow;
because they are unsatisfied
of where they are right now.

Though deep into the winter,
they seem, in breeze, so dizzy.
Swirling 'round in circles cold,
they all seem very busy.

They don't take time for other folks
or problems they might bear.
They cannot empathize with them.
They rarely ever care.

So here outside my humble room,
outside my window sill,
I see them blowing 'round and 'round
with great deceptive skill.

They idolize their happiness
and idolize each need.
They idolize each fantasy
and idolize their greed.

So colorful before they fell,
now brown and curled and dry;
they aren't yet buried 'neath the snow
and only God knows why.

Although their minds are thinking,
although their bodies fed,
although their hearts are beating,
their souls? Completely dead.

I watch a dozen leaves or so
out circling on the drive -
reminding me of people who
no longer are alive.

This poem was a finalist in the January 2015 poetry contest