the Fall

The yellow leaves of Autumn will pass
Not through the feet of ours, but mine only
You will be far away, since you have left
And I’ll walk in these streets lonely

I, now, remember the the previous falls
We used to walk through the dry homeless leaves
As they were unconcious and hopeless
The harsh wind is stealing them like the thieves

The gentle autumn rain will not wet
The hands of ours, but mine, my pretty girl
Yet I’ll remember the little drops
Gleaming on your pure skin like a white pearl


Eduard Alan Cemré Bulut