Drifting, floating on the breeze,
Come to rest high in the trees.
Sitting soft, held aloft,
Among the gold, falling leaves,
Gentle gust; limp ribbon weaves.

Relief from grey; colours glow,
Sad to see them deflate, slow.
Once a joy filled play toy:
Red; yellow; pink; orange; green;
Rainbow hues can still be seen.
(c) Robert Jones 2013, All Rights Reserved