Autumn
The wind blows withered leaves
So they fall.
Wind you blow me like a withered leaf
Through updrafts and downdrafts
Turbulence
Of hope and despair
Yet
I do not fall.
Perhaps
Even that quiescence
Is too much
To hope for.
The wind blows withered leaves
So they fall.
Wind you blow me like a withered leaf
Through updrafts and downdrafts
Turbulence
Of hope and despair
Yet
I do not fall.
Perhaps
Even that quiescence
Is too much
To hope for.
Copyright B Purkayastha 1993/2009
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