Image Source: Pinterest/@\Maria Gonzales

 

My fallen leaves, 

I do not have grips. 

 

The seasons fill our hearts, 

Yet the seasons tear us apart. 

 

The seasons that have passed, 

I do not wish for winter's chill to last. 

To them, I bid goodbye with ease, 

I love them not just through lips that please. 

 

My fallen leaves, 

I do not want to be filled with grieves. 

 

I must stand still, within its call,
Oxygen must answer, fulfill us all.

 

As the seasons sway, 

The roots may weaken and decay. 

Yet when the cold persists, 

Hope in springtime still exists.