As fall comes with melancholy
I see the Acer Rubrum tree
its bloodred leaves, a season’s shroud
a widow no one cares about
The magpie’s voice ‘neath clouds, ash grey
Its hateful chatter comes my way
it warns all creatures far and near
those ancient words are what I hear:
One for Sorrow
Two for Joy
Three for a Girl
Four for a Boy
Five for Silver
Six for Gold
Seven for a tale never to be told
Eight you Live
Nine you Die…
I hear it, it’s the magpie!
Wand’ring ‘neath the oak archway
I watch the waning light of day
their barken pillars standing tall
and glorious like a cathedral
Onward, lured to muddy paths
I am the fool who’s led by laughs
succumbing to the time it takes
past roots of trees like wooden snakes
This place, it calms my troubled mind
at times when I can’t stand my kind
And when I get back on my way
the magpie’s chatter comes my way
One for Sorrow
Two for Joy
Three for a Girl
Four for a Boy
Five for Silver
Six for Gold
Seven for a tale never to be told
Eight you Live
Nine you Die…
I hear it, it’s the magpie!
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