The tongue carries the taste of rain You, the scent of death Dousing the fire, your sweet fragrance conspire Cloud-kitchen churns in-utero Frost-o-bed Your sweet fragrance conspire
Slippers lose memory by the doorway, Bare foot a prick of dew, Living in the pages of a favourite book, Sleeves soaked in pining anew,
The slow turn of the aging firma, Snatched of its verdant crown, Who knows they are stories of death or love — Still umber burnt when meets the falling brown ?!
The water dries the skeletal birch, Rising golden from a naught, Dip your quill in the world-o’-maybe, Autumn’s survival etched in poets’ knot,
Warm days melt into the warmth of the burning wax Moments of mind fleeting in season tucked in septum — Saving a dull night’s starless gaze
Conscious to my last bones Autumn — You are but so welcome!
Did you lose your way O! wayward rain?! Give your tired self some repose, I will still keep my windows open, When terra’s sand pushes you to the gallows……
Rightly missed Monsoon gone and yet not( for some sudden drizzles), knowing it will come back in full blast in a repeat cycle, whether we are there to savour or not. Amidst evening nips, candle warmth, chiaroscuro on walls and some surprise blooms — Autumn is here!
Author’s Note: “The music of falling leaves, the autumnal story to tell, as I drink in deep its nostalgic smell. The flash of red, the flash of gold. Yesterday is past, yet, the tale did not grow old.” ― Jayita Bhattacharjee
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