The leaves are a-turning
Changing colors, dancing on the wind.
A-turning my head to catch thier autumn glory.
Dancing balerinas on a woodsmoke breeze.
Brown and orange, red and gold,
Carpeting the country lanes I follow to my home.
Leaves turning, changing, dancing,
Brown and orange, red and gold;
Autumn glory brings me home.
I wrote this poem several years ago. It was a time when I was missing someone I loved and I wished that I could just turn the corner, pull into a familiar driveway, and they would be waiting at the door. But, my Grandpa was gone, and I won't see him till I get to heaven. Every year about this time I get that same feeling. I want to go home. I used to think it was to a place I'd been before, but as time goes by I realize I'm lonely for someplace I've never been. I want to go to my real Home with my real Father. Maybe you feel that way too.