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