Orange leaves,
Wilting bushes,
Fading green,
Falling branches.
Defines every inch of me.
Tells what's inside,
Paints the unimaginable picture,
The season that suits me perfectly.
Fluffy mittens,
Warm fireplace,
Windy atmosphere,
Carved pumpkins.
Where is my old self?
Did it vanished?
Did it left?
Did it got tired?
Swirling maple leaves in front of my dull, gloomy, white house.
It is the wind that tells me:
"Wake up already. Autumn's here, waiting for you. Get out of that wall, and imagine the world you haven't thought before."
YOU ARE READING
An Obscure Reflection
PoetryMy simple thoughts can be a vast of strange collection of words. These strange collections of words completes me. [01 13 2020 - republished, but not revised, for personal reasons] [01 13 2020 - I made this compilation three years ago and I was just...
