No Turning Point

Autumn, and the trees pass from childhood
Ahead of me. I wait for the day I will be
Forced to shed my leaves.

Russet brown snow falls outside
My gaping windows, my black hair dull
Beside their blossoming colours.
I long for their beauty, watch nature
Bless dying things with such life.

Twilight, and sixteen candles glow in
My honour. Their flickering light is golden,
But they cannot compare
to the glowing leaves outside.

It is no turning point, it is a yearly
Shift, no more than the leaves dropping.
My tears refuse to follow, hide as
Liquid silver. I don't let them fall
Amongst the golden litter.

This year no different from the rest.
This year I am no nearer to maturity, despite
what you say. My smile won't change
With autumn.