Changes

As trees discard fall garments
that blanket the naked ground,
autumn fades into winter

Measuring

When he was young,    
the future only a dream,
He never worried about
what he would write
on the pages of time

Life swirled around him         
He did what he had to do next
without stopping to think
And the pattern changed
because he passed by.






Today, the falling leaves
remind him of his past
It's written like tree rings
that can't be deleted.

What will they say about him?

By what measurement will he be judged?

Does it matter?