Paintings Of Autumn Poem by Agatha Eliza

The Evening Star glides acros the sky,
and stops the grasping rain,
From the burdened shoulders of the Time
which bleach away the pain.

Dried leaves can be seen from the bushes;
as trees have lost their ornament,
And branches break and fall to Earth
as my decadent soul's torment.

I wish I had our sorrow to entwine,
to share this guilt with thee;
I doubted never of this passion of yours
which brought me pleasure, harmony.

Pale rays of light cross the depth of me
while my wings get shattered,
Knowing, I was born to wander all alone
the misty plains, when clouds scatter.

Again, your chest is crying with the Pain
when yet we're seasons long apart;
Even if I'm thousand miles away from you
you feel the beating of my heart.