The Traveler

The leaves, like tears of amber, fall
Swirling in the cold breeze,
Denying their earthly bonds.

A lone traveler, thinking of bygone days,
In silence makes his pilgrimage,
Treading across her cold hard skin.

Past markers with forgotten names,
And mounds known only to the ancients,
With purpose unyielding he continues.

The days warmth is at an end,
And so too the warmth of friendship,
Taken with indifference.

A stately raven calls out its regards,
And takes slow flight on ebony wings,
Vanishing, like life, into oblivion.

The last rays of sun are fleeting,
As the traveler makes his destination,
A stone before him rises somberly.

A grown, a whimper, a howl of remorse
And the companionship his paw remembered,
Was met instead with a cold and solace grave.