Kushal’s evocative poem on DifferentTruths.com captures autumn’s inexorable decay, whispering fears of loss amid falling leaves and fleeting light.
To Jack Foley
My slightly senior friends
fall one by one, all.
I ask the Autumn's leaves,
"Which ones are you?"
The bounty of colours
on the ground scares me.
The park extends its periphery,
push it to the road, high street,
to the steps of my house.
The coldest shadow in it
holds heaps of the dead moths.
I ask the trace of the light,
"Will you return?" "Oh, yes,"
You say on its behalf.
Picture design by Anumita Roy




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