Fall

You bloom in autumn
with the golden hues reflected
in your pensive eyes;
faraway, the conch bids
a nostalgic lament
and succumbs to the whispers
of the rustling leaves.

Thoughts unfold
and you're demystified -
Time holds no mystery
but of its own perpetuity,
its constancy.

A quiet smile faces
the cool, passing breeze;
around you the maple
and the caballero weep
of its beauty:
you are captivated.

The park is serene
and splashed with the warm
colors of the sun.
By twilight, it is embraced
by the night's solitary breath.

This marriage of contrasting poles
leaves you with a pained smile.
Autumn is your Spring.
You bloom
and you weep its beauty.