Memory of Autumn

Colors paint the town 
Leaves slowly falling to the ground 
just like rain.
Wind gently carries leaves like a mother
Cradles her children
Releasing them from the grasps of the trees. 

The change of season reflecting,
remembering, and releasing 
emotions of life moving on.

Clocks turning their hands back in time
signaling winter is on her way.
Now night will come faster and colder
but morning sun bursting with color
greets awakening  faces with his smile
warming them gently as old man winter wind attempts
to nibble at their cheeks.

Autumn memories of being a little girl
Autumn being one of those reflective seasons 
reminiscing about childhood loneliness in the Ukraine. 
Waking up in the early morning
smelling residue of burning leaves all pleasant memories 
of each new day. 

By midday 
people raking  mountains of leaves
piles that patiently await to be burned 
possibly the following evening.

Little children off to school 
walking with parents, holding their hands
all the way to the towering brick building 
that anxiously waits
to envelop them
behind her big green door.


Not everyone has parents to walk them to school. 
Back in the days I always walked alone  to my elementary school.
Trying to find anyone to walk me to school,
was as hopeless as trying to find a needle in the pile of hay.
My family was poor money being scarce 
I lacked appropriate weather clothes.
I remember a cold day walking home from school
wearing a thin white shirt
wind from right out of the corner
slapping at my skin.

I was walking alone at such young age.
Walking after a while, I couldn’t handle the cold.
I just laid down to the cold ground and hoped 
rolled up in a ball just to keep myself warm.
It was a night time 
Finally-
someone found me 
Just lying there hopeless - alone.

My Godfather found me.
He took of his coat gave it to me.
After warming up for few minutes,
he gathered me up, and carried me home.

Approaching the shack of four walls and broken windows
I recognized this place called home;
the house - cold, empty, and alone as always. 
My Godfather just left me there – 
Alone. 
As a small girl I already knew 
about this familiar friend –
cold, dark, empty - my friend called
Loneliness.