DREAMS IN SCRIBBLES

Crisp golden leaves touch the ground

For the very first time

Experiencing the moist soil and soft grass

All year long, they have clung

To their mother’s embrace

 Now they stand independent

Having bloomed in beauty through the passage of time

And now it’s time to wither

Even though they still feel like young ones

They’ve made their mother look gorgeous

 Always

Now it’s time to leave her

But what’s a tree without her leaves?

Lonely.

Like a writer without words

A chef without food

Like themselves

It’s a season of change

Nothing stays the same forever

They’ve witnessed beauty, despair

Is that all life has to offer?

They wonder

No, there’s much more

And then there’s death.

                                                                        -ANAYA SHETH