Leaves

Gilded

Glowing

Children

Alive 

And screaming

With the ghosts of Autumn

Joyfully 

Jumping 

In piles

Of mosaic painted leaves

Not knowing

What

Exactly

They were jumping

Into

It could be a fetid

Pile of dog shit

Or poisonous snakes

Or broken glass bottles

Death itself

Reaching to grab

An ankle

Or wrist

Or wrapping boney fingers

Around a soft frail throat

But they were

The young innocents

Cherubs

Laughing 

And jumping

Triumphantly

Like 

Tommorrow

And Death

Had no place

Here