As a child I always
Was fascinated by the fall,
Endowed with the rusty colors
And covered by a crisp amber shawl!
I wondered if the rain
Hit the trees very hard,
Or was it the brutal wind
Who played it’s stormy card.
Or maybe the culprit
Was the scorching sunlight,
Or did the leaves,
Started an internal fight?
But then I understood
Science and the real reason,
That they are meant to be here
Only for a span, only for a season.
As I grew up and as I traveled,
I understood that humans are analogous
With the dried, parched crew,
And their inevitable autumnal adieu.
And I perceive,
That the etymology of them leaving,
Must be based on the falling leaves too.
Feuillemort ~ a French word for the color of dry, dying leaves.
(Crafted the poem on the words suggested by Akash Shembekar, Photo by Zeyneb)