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

although their bodies fed,

although their hearts are beating -

their souls?  Completely dead.

©2015 louis gander