A Winter Noon

A Winter Noon

A winter noon. I watch the leaves – wearing their yellow costume,

flying down, kissing the ground, and intertwining with

The last bit of autumn’s warmth.

I wonder if, in a future winter noon, I will be tall enough

To catch the fallings and keep them away from the cold in the world.

A winter noon. I stare at him – grabbing a leaf in his left hand,

Raising it high, stopping me, and putting the green in my palm,

Too light, so I close my palm and hold it tight.

I wonder if, under the piercing wind, among all the yellows,

it will be the only survivor.

I wonder, if I am careful enough, can I preserve its color?

A winter noon. I look at the blue – wandering along the river bank,

Feeling the chill passing through my fingers and pushing my body

Towards the bare branches, the desolate past.

I wonder if, throwing away that tiny piece, I will be mature enough

To abandon everything in my memories and create a new start.

I wonder, if I am heartless enough, can I protect myself from falling into the clandestine trap,

Can I avoid those lessons and reach happiness without detouring an extra lap?

A winter noon. I gaze at his stone – standing in the glaring sunlight,

Taking off my bonnet, holding my cane in my wrinkled left hand,

Quietly laying the same green in front of him.

I wonder if he can still recognize me, with my hair no longer young, and my back no longer straight.

I wonder if, giving back the leaf, I can let myself go, before it is too late.

Finally, I realize that I could never escape him.

He disappears, but he still exists; just like that leaf, he is protected by love.