Dark skeleton trees of autumn,
tinted with shades of yellow and olive green,
glisten under the faint light,
yet I just notice the falling leaf.
Green towards the base,
latching onto the branch with dried and pale yellow outskirts,
I stare harder at its struggle,
trying to maintain a firm hold on the stem,
but a gust of wind strips it bare of life,
and it cascades down reluctantly.
And almost like a reflex,
my mind is filled with thoughts,
reflecting how I am,
a falling leaf.
My heart is still green at the base,
thumping in jerks and keeping me alive by holding onto life,
yet I’m ‘just tired’ on the outside,
dried and pale,
weary of this world.
And this society?
It is a harsh wind,
driving the strength out of me,
compelling me to let go.
But I’m adamant about not giving up,
I don’t want to loosen my grip on life,
I don’t want my existence to be buried beneath this trodden earth,
I don’t want people to trample over me,
like a blanket of dried leaves gets crushed under our feet.
Because I know it’s just autumn now,
and the spring shall come someday,
when my outsides will shine again,
with shimmering hues of green,
and this depressing yellow won’t be my only identity.
I will wait until the spring comes some day.
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About the Poet:
My motto:- live and let live.