The Seasons Are Turning Over

The seasons are turning over and
The rustle of the falling yellowed leaf
Betrays no vocal emotion
As the wistful wind reminds me
That life has quietly slipped by.

There is weed along the hedgerows,
Leaves browned in the autumn sun
And it gently sings to me
A song of dust and time,
While I amble on and on.

No roads seem to diverge to me,
But my path is wide and shadowy
Cloaked in fog and reveries,
And any divisions that could have been
Remain unseen to my eyes.

Towards the horizon I go,
My hands in my pocket,
Whistling a tune that's out of time;
Perhaps I might find a thicket or bush
Cleansed by rain and merriness
That leads to a path that seems like mine.

Reviews

[Sweet_pale_cacophony]

Honestly, I am very surprised that there are no reviews for this beautiful piece!

A moment in life gradually comes by, when no roads seem to diverge (indeed).Yet, whistling a tune we keep walking ahead in renewed hope of new paths. How endearing is the virtue of hope...

[Abdul Aziz]

Thank you very much Swaha. It is a pleasure to have you by :) Yes, hope is what keeps one going.