Silence will not be the form of you in me
at the edge of fate, we scream
the last sigh of our exiatence.
The veins of trees are visible
devoid of leaves, as if free of all pretexts.
No where to go, blissfully it stands
as the last penance of our outcry.
subodh pandey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-elegy-to-autumn/
