October is coming to an end,
The leaves are starting to fall,
I could hear them rustling under my feet,
As I walked along the lonely boulevard.
The sky has turned mellow,
With the shades of the dying sun.
The wind has lost its warmth,
Before reaching the Hills of Caisson.
I could hear the blue Cuckoo,
Sitting on a naked tree,
Singing her heart out for she could see,
The winter was on the brink of the precipice.
I sat on an empty bench,
Thinking, this serenity too shall end,
But whenever I’ll walk down this avenue again,
It shall always bring me back to the perennial grace of the brittle Autumn leaves,
Falling upon me, on a placid October’s Eve.