The leaves of fall lay on the ground
As I rake, I�m reminded of my past
Like pages of a tattered book
They lie around me as the leaves

Some brightly colored
Some dingy and old

Some forgotten
Some remembered

Some remembered
That would be best forgotten

I rake them in piles
No order
The good with the bad
All in a pile

I bag them
For the trash

But in my haste
A few escape

But whether
To trouble
Or to cheer
Ah there�s the question

Job�s done
For another year