You left love notes
Written along my ribcage
You said the spaces
Made perfect lines for poetry
My skin still remembers
Even after I washed you off

From the bleak darkness it emerged,
triumphant and domineering.
Looming over the dreams
its strength,overpowering.

No denials this time
for there can be none.
like a flame it burns
like a spear,it hurts.

It illumines the mind
though the heart splits.
The dreamer dies
the realist lives.

It holds thee in its
strong embrace.
All fade,
only it ...forever remains.

Cold...cold...so cold
Can someone feel so cold?
Through the intertwining folds..
Of dreams so old.
The blazing sun
The scorching heat..
Yet so cold.
Heart beats .
Smiles within...sadly..
A spirit so old.
Is there no end ?
No respite
From this nerve biting cold.
-Rakshinda

Running fast in the middle of the corn,
the little maid held a red maple leaf
as she began to sing:
,, For golden Autumn I do not morn,
but for the blackberries that perished of grief,,

Her hair of marigold in the wind swung
and her cheeks were bright and rosy
when she once again in her silvery voice sung :
,, Oh October, month of gold,
how beautiful sights you give me to see ,,

Alas, the sun soon started to set behind the hill
and made her smile to slowly fade
when, from the woodland, the wind gave her a chill:
,, Little maid, leave October's canvas of art
and go home before nightfall freezes your fragile little heart  ,,

" There is mystery in the night air "
**- said the Moon
while little stars upon me
began to stare
at the black kitten
catching leaves
scattered in the Old Autumn Wind...