Vidhi Jain

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Best Poem of Vidhi Jain

The Last Of Autmn

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 from my reach.
I walk an extra length
to reach the heap,
Oh! what joy do I get,
When i 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 ...

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