Leftovers

If you find me ever again, don’t hold onto those leaves,

It’s nothing but dust that just crumbles in your grip

If you find me ever again, don’t cry over the memories

It’s nothing but illusion that fades with birth of new twigs

Can you listen to those roars again, as the sky cracks and pours?

It stays only for some time because it knows… there is nothing more

The smell of leaves, the touch of wind – it’s just a passers-by

Now brace yourself to struggle with waves,

          cause leftovers give nothing but despair…