Autumnal Rain

Although to enjoy the color of flowers in the field, you fell on the yesteryear’s snow through a gap of sunlight with eyes lowered bashfully, and followed the brook in the valley as a stream of murmuring water, you are not the misty spring rain coming with the tender shoots but the autumnal rain, because you do drift along the water on the river of time and tide as a dejected leaf at the dusk. Although as a downpour, you came from other side of dark cloud accompanying air filled thunder and lightening and thrust into the heart of earth with a dazzling thunderbolt, you are not the torrential rain once poured on the violent water in midsummer day any more, but the autumnal rain, because you do flow in the water wafting a lonely leaf. Since when has only the dialogue between you and the falling leaf becomes your everything? You, the autumnal rain, come with the falling leaf and go as the dead leaf which to be buried in the river named oblivion.