The dawn of mist has arrived,
Fallen leaves welcome the falling.
The land nestles under a grey blanket,
While the sunlight tries crawling.
The bark of this oak still has two names,
One being yours and one being mine.
Standing witness to farce, childish vows,
Made hazy by the assaults of time.
The fog conceals what we share,
This thing, that we so carefully named.
A meek stream by the grass delays its flow,
As if, waiting to be framed.
Hold on to the thoughts of summer,
For the cold is here, here to stay.
Forget to remember tomorrow for a while,
Take all that this dawn has to give away.
-Karan Ghosh
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