Surrounded by yellowing leaves,
I sit on an ageing wooden bench.
The Wind is playing with the falling leaves,
while I am watching things slowly disappear.
While wondering, I spot a leaf stuck in eaves
of a fine building. One by one, leaves entrench
themselves, like soldiers of war. Little thieves
sneak inside. Stepping slowly and they steal.
Without making noises, the little toys fly away.
It is joyful to watch how they play in the wind.
Some of them may go astray,
but by birds they are pinned.
Sitting here, I wonder, while leaves fall
and they surround me, about little tales.
Here comes Autumn, answering the ancient call
of gracious Time. Throwing my stories into pails,
as empty as white untouched papers.
They listen undisturbed and learn.
However, they act as shapers,
in which things tend to burn.