The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
Sitting under a tree in the fall
With a book...
The birds sing random notes;
Chaotic yet sweet...
Like that jazz at the bar
Coming from a sombre pianist
Hiding in the shadows
Who is most noticed when he stops playing.
Sitting under a tree in the fall
With a book...
And an apple in my sweater
I take a bite;
Ever sweet,
Ever sweet...
And a wrinkled leaf falls to the page,
Writhing in agony at the wind,
Yet refusing to fly away...
For it,
The sun and the seasons were enough.
For it,
Earth was heaven itself....
Sitting under a tree in the fall
With a book...
Thinking of everything
Except of reading the book.
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