The warmth of summer is long gone,
And the chill of winter is on the horizon.
The sky has turned grey,
And many people turn inward,
Both physically and mentally.
The green-sleeves and red-bushes have vanished,
Replaced by those brown and yellowish woody trees.
Defoliation has begun,
When the shattered leaves begin to detach from their shoots,
Which have hold them for long.
You're never alone,
One of the leaves says.
We will fall together.
The creaking voice is getting clearer with time,
And each descend concludes with a small minute thud.
Soon enough it'll be my turn,
And by then,
There will be no pain.
The murmurs of autumn wind ring in my ears,
And their whispers take away the finest veil in my conscience.
The next action is now visible in my eyes,
As the swinging becomes more vigorous off the sky.
I can feel it coming.
"The cold winter will strike,
But the warm beautiful spring will blossom.
When the pain is gone,
A new burnished era is near."
I begin falling... and falling...
When the leaf meets the ground with a soft whimper,
I know what I have to do.
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