The Autumn's Mirror Poem by Alaa Elgadi

People see the autumn as a wretched boy,
For it comes and spoils the earth's joy.
It cuts and rumples the leaves of trees,
And sprays the hush inside the cell of bees.
The sad woods play the symphony of rustle,
After the thirsty winds penetrate the roots' muscle.
The miserable bird gets his stuff packed,
For he knows that he will be sacked.
But all those things in this season,
Do occur for a wise reason.
After the autumn's death,
Winter takes its first breath.
The gray clouds hug the sky,
And the snow begins to lie.
Then the cold ground sews its sleeves,
Of the warm yellow autumn's leaves.
The poor man gathers the chumps for money,
The hungry vagabond bear tastes the cell's honey.
The people's fear is not for the nature sight,
But the dead leaves are mirrors to what they write.
They see the autumn's picture in their stories,
Which died after not breathing the glories.
Sometimes a poet treads on his poems' feather,
If he does not hear any whisper of reader.
And an actor throws the wage beneath his sole,
If the play's author gives him a ridiculous role.
Does the green tree forget its dry leaves' past? ,
Dead leaves were from its stage's cast.