Sitting on the old bench, alone, while staring at people, the skies and these leaves.
I wonder how beautiful these leaves used to be when they were in bloom. At least, they experienced to be a one beautiful thing -- unlike me.
I've seen the admiration in their eyes as their gaze follow a leaf, gliding freely in the air. At least that leaf felt free just before it die.
Intertwined fingers, a vow of love. I see love all over the brown forest. How can we be so happy in between these things that will soon rot?
How dare us to be amazed by these dying thing? -- but, somehow, I envy these autumn leaves. I wish I could be one of them, so that I can experience to be called beautiful even just before I wilt.