A Tyger's Talu

Florescent leaves fall from the trees,
landing by your sanctuary.
A color clutter within the gutter
to disperse when you are wary.
Monotonous tones begin their moans,
a tyrannical wind blows through.
You- left sane- seem mundane
and so we say adieu.
Intolerable life brings forth strife,
for immortality is eternal.
And all the while, we reconcile
to watch an unpopped kernel.
Within the sea- fascimile-
this autumn charade is dead.
Your elixir of youth is now abused,
as the wily tyger is fed.
Beguile the lies with alibis-
a sanctimonious day!
The myriad hue all for you
in a forum of naivete.
And so, we're through. This old talu-
a play with imagery.
"The maelstrom is dead," the tyger said.
"This is poetry."