A blue bicycle along some leaves
bright and sunny coloured
crunching along the grey path, a duller
tone. It is autumn fall as life leaves.
It returns to us, however,
as nature's boomerang:
as the sky cries, as the wind sang.
What is love, if not a sudden onset fever?
Our vision becomes clouded
like the morning fog,
tears fall and rosy cheeks become crowded.
An incontrollable sobbing, at rock bottom
until we reach that point shrouded
beneath the soil, becoming one with autumn.
Nov 8, 2020
Nov 8, 2020 at 10:54 AM UTC
A blue bicycle along some leaves
bright and sunny coloured
crunching along the grey path, a duller
tone. It is autumn fall as life leaves.
It returns to us, however,
as nature's boomerang:
as the sky cries, as the wind sang.
What is love, if not a sudden onset fever?
Our vision becomes clouded
like the morning fog,
tears fall and rosy cheeks become crowded.
An incontrollable sobbing, at rock bottom
until we reach that point shrouded
beneath the soil, becoming one with autumn.
