Ryder Bott

 Eyes fixate

on the blue above,

In a dying place,

With silent halls,

And wandering ghosts,

Our only company

Are lost dreamers

Like us.

Echoes of happiness

Bounce through the trees.

The sounds of laughter,

And joy,

And life,

That left this place

Many years before.

The emerald will make way

To gold,

And orange,

And red,

And then absence.

Then all of it will be reborn,

But the place this life encases

has no rebirth left.