The Death Of Autumn Poem by Melati Hussein

The road hasn’t ended yet
The harsh dry leaves earlier rolled over and over in a low lying wind
scratching the surface with a rattle

It’s the death of autumn
The only colours left belong to the sunrise and sunset
Burnings that scream too loud, too fast

Smell has gone
Eyes are listless as damp mud
There is no music
Just my manic little bird song

The view is wider, bleaker
And I harbour the memory of a pomegranate

You are still, secretly locked away
A voice recorded like the scratch of the autumn leaves on the road.