Is my soul so tranparent
like my umbrella covering my head?
The dictates of autumn
made so much of devastation before me
All the green leaves day before
turned to very many colours yesterday
and by now became, fully dried and fell to earth
I feel very much sad for this transformation?
Humans' living stages also don't differ from these deeds
child hood, youth, mid age and fag end resemble to these events
Seasons spell in their own way
and as an annual event, we do respond in the same play
Let me introspect into my self
and arrive at a conclusion to say straight
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