The Fall

Winding along the breadth of pavements

Inflating lungs with wistful smokes

Of coffee shops and burning fuel

Painting life with carefree strokes

The winds run aimless

Yellow leaves will shed their shell

Somewhere among the huddling dins

My city bids autumn farewell...

Hawkers shouting bidden price

Tea-stalls filled with clinks of glass

The beggar woman cajoles her child

Here and there, the buyers pass.

Eateries, hotels big and small

Cinema-houses dead or old

The lovers’ eyes as bright as light

Trickling heat against the cold.

Skies have not been deeper blue

Dust parts rise with kicking feet

A few more hours, the sun subsides

Wayside slums all dimly lit.

The film of fog now whispers in

The yellow leaves are crimson set

A tender chill runs down one’s spine

All delicate lips are Vaseline-wet.

My city turns round; it’s time for home

Toes well sunk in blankets soft

The little bird comes flying alone

Its humble nest held soaring aloft.

Leaves have filled all grounds with sighs

Their rustle mutters a pensive note

Deep in, memories slither awake

In books, in beds, in a tattered coat.

Beauty, pain, raptures unknown

Each will cast its span of spell

Somewhere in a twilight moon

My city bids autumn farewell...