The yellow leaves fly with the wind 
Covering the graves below 
The willow 
The old man stands in the doorway 
Wiping his 
Eyes with soiled sleeve 
He kneels at the foot of the 
Graves 
And touches the time-worn epitaph 
Blessed are the 
Pure in heart, 
For they shall see God 
The grief of 
Loss claws at his bleak soul 
The wind carries the first 
Freezing rain 
With the rain appears a light 
The 
Bright ray of the cold autumn day 
It illuminates the cliffs 
Beyond the field 
And casts vast shades upon the soaked 
Grass 
The man recoils from his distant thoughts 
The 
Rain flows along his furrowed cheeks 
He stares at the warmth 
Of caressing light 
And weeps the unseen tears with the 
Rain 
He touches the grass with the palm of his 
Hand 
And lets the wind sway him towards the past 
He 
Follows the path of forgotten oblivion 
And vanishes in the 
Rain on his dying day