The leaves lie upon the ground,
As I walk amongst their crowd,
With every step I see, I hear,
The sound of crisp aloud.
The brown road of earth,
Covered with a blanket of vermilion,
Some subdued tones scatterd to and fro,
Could not deter its kalon
The path they made,
With the trees as the fence,
Rather seemed to be a revival,
Towards the autumnal credence
Treading along the red radiant road,
Not knowing the destination,
Yet I know what does the end hold,
The regin of morana will have begun.
Falls in front of my eyes,
As it swings on the musical wind,
But its dance soon dies.
The wooden pillars of nature,
As its leaves dangle on by their petiole,
The trees detach as its leaf flutters,
Another symbol adding to autumn’s soul.
The snowflake of leaves,
Kiss the ground,
As the stroke of air passes by,
And brings them to were they are bound.
The trees seems dry,
But their dullness lies in splendour,
Or it seems to be my kalopsia,
From straving here since afterhour
The dry wind whistles,
As it brings about the rustling,
The playful joy of their lift,
On the passerby do they bring.
The road seems narrow,
As its red path stretches long,
For I have to travel it, with or,
Without autumn along
By the time I reach,
It may be warmer than this day,
It may be when the leaves grow,
But It would not make this autumn grey.
My time seems fleeting,
Awaiting for another day,
But shall always remain with me,
This autumn saudade.
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