The Last Of Autmn Poem by Vidhi Jain

Brown and withered,
Yellow whan old.
When they fall,
What rustling sound they call.
As I walk through all the heaps
Gathered by the sweep
Where kept along the side
Far,
Far from my reach.
I walk an extra length
to reach the heap,
Oh! what joy do I get,
When i kick,
Kick,
Them untill they all fall over me
making me sick.
I grunt.
Grunt and walk on, till I see,
see another heap.
A heap that urges me to come and set it free.
Free to roam, roam about in the streets.
Swirling and twirling,
Twisting and shifting,
Moving along,
Moving away,
Moving ahead with Brother Wind.
I push myself to reach the destination.
While on my way I groan and walk.
Walk along with my heavy bag.
Till at last I reach my stop.
Then there, with a sigh,
I roll my eye, where then I happen to see,
A thing,
Which I fick and let fall,
No other than the last,
the last leaf,
of Autmn
Fall.