Cycle of discomfort
Arid-tanned leaves,
vigorously stripped
from their cages by
thick cold winds,
luring them to dance
like elegant swans,
swaying dangerously
naked to speeding
express, testing their fate.
I hear the roars and
dark clouds
setting up the stage.
You only hear nature's
voice through our pen.
Their pain, happiness,
memories and laughter.
our
favourite lover.
They preserve us,
and in turn,
we become their sip,
they eat
in nourishment.
In the end,
we all come back as Nature.
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