The Yellow Bells

O the fall,

so quickly,

to the ground,

so cold.

The snow

freshly fallen,

like leaves from a tree.

At that moment,

in silence,

a single petal,

drifts through the air

with no destination in mind,

yet it lands in front of me,

as I struggle to keep

my eyes open . . .

As I hear,

the heavy footsteps

crunch in the snow,

as my body seems to be dragging.

Across the frozen floor,

harsh pants of snow,

drift through the air.

As the darkness

becomes a common friend.

But . . . As-time . . . Went-by . . .

I awoke in a medical bed.

The room;

so bleak,

so deafening,

to the ears.

Beside me

was a vase full of luscious flowers . . .

and a note that read,

"Sincerely, Yellow Bells."