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.
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2 comments:
I told you I've read a new Coelho book-Eleven minutes. What you've written reminds me of a line from the book. A truth about seasons. We love the spring, but we cannot say to the spring that it has to stay and remain. We can only be thankful for the moment it remained and blessed our lives. It's a rough paraphrase, but the essence is the same.
What we love to behold, we are often given only brief moments to behold them/it with...and then good bye.
But a truth of nature could also be a truth of life. Your spring might have left you...but you'll also learn your lessons from autumn and from the other seasons...
There's a time for everything...he may come back,he may not.But if he does, Do not make the mistake of believing that he is/ will be the same spring that you've once known and basked with...It's a different season, a different man, and a new beginning.
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