Dry autumn leaves looking up to the sky
Soft rustling of cold wind passing by
The hazy fog and the hung mist
The cold gallops of spring nearby
Droopiness of the flower petals
And the yellowing grass
Golden clouds clinging to sun rays
Encompassing stupor and the shiver amass
Like an abandoned town
Or a crunching, dried up Forest
And the muck below a waterless pond
All there is but is not, a poor jest
A wind will blow from heavens above
Part the clouds in the winter sky
The leaves, the trees, the flowers would yawn
Welcoming sun and the dawn, bid the cold goodbye
