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To Each Autumn I Write

How fast the days have flown by
Not even stopping for a while to enjoy
Time is such a leveler, everything capsuled like Bonsai
Bitter or sweet, sometimes even sour

The Maple trees stand testimony to the advent of
Many decent and a few indecent trails
Losing the dearest, few mishaps, mistrust, mistakes

Many births, mirth, moments worthwhile
The newly wed whispering their dreams
Those smiles of newborn with hope to crawl miles
Poets writing about rainbows that stay
A tranquil world on the anvil

Moments of joy, fast forgetting the fallen leaves
Welcoming the signs of rebirth

Yes, I write every Autumn, a song and an Ode
A song of melancholy, an Ode to divine bliss
Those fallen and up right Maples
My first and last spectators and audience.

© Sai Prakash

To Each Autumn I Write
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