Look above; I see the clouds move in a melancholic procession,

With soberness, remorse, gloomy pallbearers carry sacred hearse,

Follow the sacred casket with respect and pride, slowly silently,

It beholds the withered memories of my first unconditional love,

Look down, even natures shed golden tears as pure reverence.


Love settled intensely inside me, lighted up life with candles,

Early dawn gallantly gleamed to receive your sunshine kiss,

Twilight blooms with romantic canopies for us to express,

In dark nights we learned the art of moonlit compositions,

But my love turned golden when autumn laid its gild hands,

Why and where do I weep for the cascade of jilted emotions?


In thousand good-byes for you to stay on there are pleadings,

Power of season where trees cannot bind their adored leaves.

Maple orange, vermilion red, chestnut copper splashed beauty,

But colors of separation and sorrow dazzle in remarkable glory,

Some are God’s ways of reminding us every beauty has its fall,

Midst silence, I feel your enriched words inspiring me to stand,

To offer on sleeping lips, tribute of true passionate,” Adieu.”

Seems nature knows the mystery of a disturbed symmetry,

Whispers of cracklings, hustling, breaking smolder into heaps.


Gaze at azure skies, blazing earth, to allow my eternal submission,

Like departed leaf I know willful destiny has a secret disposition,

I still rot around longing to feast upon the ashes of first lost love,

My heart still perched on love I remember as “Golden autumn.”


Harshada Pathare

General Writing

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