Fall by Rika Yahashiri

The trees change faces from green to brown

crying tears drifting to the ground.

The wind bites our faces as

the season changes.

Every step we take

Crumple. Crunch. Crunch.

is like the crackle of fireworks.

Silvery crescent shows its face

as the golden sun shys asleep.

Purply hues stain the sky

Like watercolors on a canvas slide.

The wind blows stronger

shoving their force into our bodies

as we walk.

Crumple. Crunch. Crunch.

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