When the last leaf falls will they be there to watch it.

How often have they told you they love you.
Perhaps not as often as you needed.

Even once is wonderful.
Even once is not never.

When it is taken away does the autumn of your soul descend upon you?

Words, words, words. 
What do they mean?

What about trust.

They said trust.
Did they trust?
They said love. 
Did they love?

The autumn of your soul descends.
The last leaf succumbs, twisting in the blustery zephyrs of rue and regret.
Will they be there to watch it fall?