Fated

 

—Fated—

A young spring fated to fall

No matter what happens

it yields dried leaves.

A willow tree

Swept by boredom

And climbed by

Slow and slow.

A wilting rose seen

In a battle—

Killed by its thorns.

Isn't it time for this fall

To end yet?

To blossom —

to get back to its spring?

But sadly its fated

That's leaves still dried

That's tree still alone

That's rose killed

A long time ago.

Baran R.A