Dancing with sweet feminism,
above cemeteries of barren fields.
Inhaling a bitter scent of pessimism,
as my feet step over fallen leaves.
Arrogant gust recoloring dreams;
green to orange as yellow beams.
From deep inside the arid lands,
cold nips the warmth of my hands.
Steeped within this golden view
with all my senses remembering you
Consolation yet, refills my heart
as autumn begs spring to start..
Swaying around, with sweetness still
I sink deep within the yellowish hill
continuously breathing in hope until
Autumn dreams fall out of thrill..
By: Rania Moallem