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

[one of the first poems i posted online....but is worth a second look]