No acorns.

I am bad, or am I? I do not know, do you know?
Whatever the answer there is no answer and the leaves
That drift and swirl down from the autumn tree are
Mocking you. I am not the best, but neither are you,
Because there is no best. If you claim to be the best
Then you will find yourself being ridiculed
By the beech mast that crunches on the path
As you walk along. You are not bad, because
If I am not bad then you cannot be. Let the leaves
Mock and laugh, for the autumn winds are blowing
Now, and soon they will be followed and chased away
By the winter chill, with icy teeth and insistent fingers
That seek out the smallest crack in your
Insufficient armour, and infiltrate deep into your
Soul. And then no music or words will sooth the
Wounds, for the hurt will not be skin deep,
And you will wonder if you can go out into
The wild white, and will your footsteps linger
Just a while, then fill and smooth and be no more.
Be no more, be no more.

© 2ndwitch, 21/10/14

(Ok, so this has not so much been inspired by a song, as two lines from the song are the starting point - I cannot offer a link as I cannot find it online, but it is by Ivan Drever (I think), see http://www.ivandrever.co.uk in case!)