The Night of Falling Leaves

Beneath the ancient oak, they sit,
Cloaked in autumn's tender lit.
A chill whispers through the air,
Carrying secrets everywhere.

Leaves cascade, a golden rain,
Each one a token, joy or pain.
The crimson cries of loves once known,
The amber glow of seeds they've sown.

A scarlet leaf twirls near their face,
A fleeting glimpse of time's embrace.
A childhood laughter, bright and free,
Lost in the tides of what must be.

An ochre shard, a solemn fall,
A dream discarded, after all.
A burnt sienna gently lands,
Of lessons learned through trembling hands.

The breeze calls forth a verdant hue,
A fragile hope, a promise true.
While russet leaves, in quiet flight,
Speak of peace found in the night.

The earth, a quilt of autumn’s hue,
Cradles the tears of morning dew.
Yet in this moment, 'neath the tree,
They see the truth: life’s constancy.

For every fall bears seeds anew,
Through loss, the soul is rendered true.
The night of falling leaves, it seems,
Is but the birthing of fresh dreams.

 - Khushi Kaul