The autumn is not so sad itself,
But the moments before
Are achingly drowning in a
The first leaf.
The first green turned into yellow,
Washed away by a new-born September rain.
Summer is not gone yet, but I can see her waving goodbye,
Taking her flowerish dress away,
Mumbling an almost not so sad
“see you next year”
Even if they always come around,
They never act the same.
There is never a too hot summer,
Or a too rainy autumn,
Because while you are too busy
Comparing them with the last ones,
The coldest ones,
The warmest ones,
You are already feeling them
Intersecting each other,
While they make you feel,
Even for a second and a half,
The cold and the warmth at once.
Remember them each time – they
Will never come back as they were before.