The Track

I walk along the twisted track.
The falling leaves touch my face with fingers of coolness.
I whistle a happy song.

I saw an object up ahead.
The brown camera I had left on my bed.
My sister was the only one to see. 

I picked it up; when I looked it was only a picture of me,
As I walked along the twisted track,
The falling leaves touching my face, the slight breeze lifting my hair.

I called her name “Alex?”
Was she here or round the bend?
My sister was doing just as I was.
The falling leaves would touch her face.
With fingers of coolness,
the slight breeze lifting her hair.

I looked left and right to wait her arrival.
I noticed a ribbon on a flowery bush.
On leaning over to pick it up, the ground gave way and I fell.

Down into the mine shaft. The breeze left at the top.
I landed with a heavy heart, to the bottom and heard a cry.
The falling leaves kept falling.
They were landing on my sister as they were landing on me.

She broke my fall as she called my name.
I turned and held her tight.
“Oh sister, oh sister I hurt so much” my special sister cried.
I whistled a song we sang as children. I watched her slowly die.

I walk along the twisted track.
The falling leaves touch my face, with fingers of coolness.
The slight breeze lifts my hair.
I whistle a sad, sad song.