I Love Autumn

[GEETASHREE]

Frozen leaves hold their breath
Foot falls are silenced to death
Autumn is yet to recede
But the Painter’s brush has a wintry edge
As He hurries a stroke in watery hues
Pain is no more the bed mate of desolate nights
And fears have left without a traceable tract
This is the time to look beyond the deserted hearth
And muse over the colossal mistakes of the past
Without a pang, a sting, a prick in the eyes
Before the kiss of a final goodbye...