My eyelids descend like night
When I opened them,
I came to realize that
The once barren trees
On which I hoped for green
Are now once again bare,
For the birds are leaving the trees
The skeleton frame against the gray
Sways to the crunch made by feet
As each foot steps on the once green
Skeletal leaves dried up by the fading sun
The wind, like an automatic broom,
Sweeps up those remains untidily
And the streets are littered
With colours of orange, red, and, yellow.
