withered leaves will not complain

will all the withered leaves
bent branches of trees in my garden
whispers of breeze, hesitant, but resolute
i dont have any thing more to say
silence has taken over
like a wornout shawl
trying to cover on old night
a soul, which has overused the time
given by nature, so bye
let leaves dry
let withered moss bare the rocks
so what if a sigh filled night soaks
all the tears that flew
aimlessly, it seems now
could not let waves stear your way
could not have anything any more to say
let me wait when these trees will try up
but wood will still be useful
craft careful cups
bowls
and fill tem with hope, faith, blessings
that will be showered by the new trees
you would have planted by then