The wind grasps the crown of green trees
As they dance synchronized, swaying free,
As Playful cunning, fox-like trickery
Enclosed, a suitcase holds dreams indeed
Autumn leaves all fading tawny brown
Allegorical floats, there roar the crowds
While decorated wagons elusively depart
A man vainly grasps the faded handle bar
The clock still fixed at 4 o'clock
Fresh hands admire and mercilessly mock
The sound of consciousness echoes a reply
A shielded soothing, wisdom now by his side
Has the carnival exited the town?
The streets are vast, brooms dwindle on the ground
Youth has departed, a lonesome effect
Darkness grows, a time to reflect
Bedazzled Adonis, petals imminently fall
The promising path has bent for all
It's the last pristine day of forty springs
Inevitable fate that age brings.
(Written in 2014)