A withered life
Has anyone ever heard the sound,
those withered autumn leaves falling on ground ?
On an autumn evening
amidst various sounds of rustling ,
waited with silent prayer in anticipation
of the finale of an imminent manifestation,
Golden yellow chestnut leaves outlived the term
a perfect metaphor for cornucopia’s fallen charm
abandoned moments of many a joy and gloom
melancholia under harvest moon and cranberry bloom
inebriated euphoria with cider aplenty
Autumn hues painted the earth’s bounty
still not sure why heart isn’t rejoicing
as if the spider webbed soul is in perpetual mourning.