a thousand leaves outlined.

Scarlet,

Auburn and

coral streaks,

foster

the ceaseless creasing of the morning seas.

Blazing sun turns amber pale

the smoke of silence strips the light from air.

She gasps for every breath she exhales,

Her soul in autumn’s melancholy dwells.

Luscious eyes

swirl from word to word.

Under the fog tinted fairy-trees,

She is what they call

A bluebird.

Trapped in flesh

Of incandescent grace

Blue even in the midst of

red fiery glace.

Yet

leaves wilt ’round her

smoulder gold.

Radiating the warmth

of summer old.

Gusts of wind pass gently by,

Stray of hair swirl o’er her eyes.

Annihilated in love

Her shivers she writes.

And I believe

The only thing crueler

than autumn’s woe

Is the love she throws herself

So much into.

False are the promises

she makes to herself,

To never do it again.

Because to be alive

Is to do it again.

Perhaps they are right when they say,

To love is to risk everything else.

Vaishnavi Parihar

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