The leaves are

The leaves are
so colorful
and innocent.
They don't wait for life to pass them by.

The sky is
so bitter
so gray
but it doesn't moan or wail.

The trees are
so empty
stretching, reaching.
But they don't get discouraged at what's out of their grasp.

The wind does
whistle
and make people shiver
but it doesn't seem to be bothered by the things that shun it.

The girl
in her bedroom
is so young.
She has no idea what's about to await her in a year's time.

The picture
the girl holds
on her windowsill
doesn't seem like it's going to be lost next fall.

The journal
on her bedside table
doesn't know of it's fate
and how it's pages will not be written on very often, very soon.

Those letters
can't have any idea
that their words
will mean nothing when September rolls around.

Her God
knows that He will be abandoned
and tossed away.
When he finally leaves her, like the leaves in fall.

Oh, but that was things then, and this is things now:

The weather
stays the same
they can know
that life goes on and things do happen.

But the girl
fights with herself
struggles with her past
and can't seem to get her emotions under wraps.

And everything
just seems to be
spiraling
out of control.

And now he's gone.
And now he's gone...