leaves [Theme] Page 7

You, the leaves, the blood is given from a lifetime of years.
Some from the East sailed Flamingo sunrise!
What is the sunset flowed over the crown for a year
To the glory of the fragile put you nature.
And man, like the leaf, will one day fall,
Outside grey, inside bleeding.

Every blade of grass and shook the pearly drops of dew, and yellow leaves on the black oaks blazed like gold coins.

It was
Not a bird's wing.
This sheet
In the wind fluttered.
Only
There was no wind that day.

Bright leaves dance
Spinning in the wind.
Ah, October, the night of the year!
Oh, rainy weather!
Oh, how chilly in the morning...
I run to the subway through the puddles,
Bright umbrella flying behind me.
Oh, the morning frost...
New scarf, perhaps, need
Warm, soft, wool.

I love autumn flowers
Of the different leaves collected at home.
In them the sound of rain and bright holiday colors
They gasp summer and autumn languor.
Keep a bale - like fates heap.
The veins on the leaves - like wreaths.
And every leaf is like a city:
Homes, avenues, roofs of rusty shades.

Illuminated by the moon nocella
Silent mouse the field;
Transparent stand trees,
Covered with dark -
When the Rowan, developing
The leaves that die
Jealous, fingering
Their vyalenie emerald, -
The sad fate of wandering
And gentle the lot of children;
And thousands of green fingers
Ranges many branches.

Time flies inexorably,
But people have to pray no,
So at least for a moment
To stop the for short years.
And we're in a hurry, friends lose
But still have no time to live,
Leaves his example
We could, perhaps, teach.

This fall was the end.
I have tried to save our relationship the last warm evening of August protects open shoulder favorite from the September furtive kiss. But all attempts were useless: you left me caught up in the unbridled gust of swirling leaves. You're still in the summer and she wanted to leave, but to my affection for you was stronger than your dislike.
Autumn is the time off not only the trunks and branches of trees, but also feelings...

Leaves lie,
like a wounded bird,
legs up.

I heard that you came home. Still warm in the fall, in late October, just before cold nights. At the time I was out of town, although what's the difference? We missed you a lot sooner than over the summer.
From friends I learned that you're happy and loved. You have a real life you dreamed of, and which is impossible to create with me.
I'm glad you found peace and balance; that near to you the person that you chose mind. As it should be. He is a proud owner of your thoughts, and I of dreams and memories.
People can feel the presence of their loved one even at a distance.
I'm like a leaf that decisively breaks from the branch and swiftly flies down until you fall hard on the ground, hurt with all my heart. What to take with him? Ordinary crippled heart. Turn around and you will see hundreds of similar ruined hearts. They lie silently under the feet of yellow and purple frozen wingless aircraft. And the difference between us is only one: the power and altitude, and everything else, and inevitably landing the same.
To wait for salvation is useless. It wasn't supposed to happen, but a natural pilot-the wind knows better in which direction - reciprocity or rejection - to say.
Dark forest keeps the memory about a happy light story...
The leaves - like a hidden treasure. Among these vivid emeralds, opals and rubies you. My worrying unforgettable miracle...
The hot breath of the forest and your home warm. You're so close that I'm losing like a weak tree, the last of his strength and consciousness, and waltz humble leaf to the ground, in your lonely dance.
Feel me coming? Hold me, love. Relaxed and affectionate. Hold before me will always absorb the earth's rock properties...

In the same way as then... Surrounded by a crimson fragments of leaves, they wanted to stay with each other forever. But that was a pipe dream...

Every night she sleeps alone. And lying in bed, hugging a thin hand bag, she looks out the window, beyond which the leaves fall on the wet asphalt. They fall silent, but she hears every beat sheet on the ground. Maybe it's the beats of her own heart. And the leaf turns into a strange, terrible hours, chastised her time, her breath, and the darkness outside the window tighter and the world smaller, it becomes a tiny, shrinking to the size of the pupil, it is getting close, stifling, and her heart in it - a huge, tearing space, reaching the dreams of distant worlds, it knocks faster and faster, more greedily swallows someone else's warmth, all desperately looking for someone to drowning in a pool of light the city streets, dark paths godforsaken forest in the echoing emptiness of the steppes and humid languid beaches... And all around the leaves are falling faster, falling walls, falling stars, the sky falls...

When you look at the flying leaves,
The sound on the cobblestone end
Sour cream - as an artist with a brush,
Picture cum finally
I think (so anyone not liking
Mill neither my nor my whole brooding look),
That is clearly yellow, decisively rusty
One leaf on top - forgotten.

And one falling leaf heralds the onset of autumn.