The walk home

I took a walk home from the pub tonight.

It wasn’t the longest of walks, yet not the shortest.
It was a cold walk thou - of that I’m sure – because my muscles were vibrating.

I tend to look down when I walk.

With my eyes searching the ground, as if I am worried to trip.
I didn’t trip tonight – of that I’m sure – because my eyes weren’t blurry.

All I can see tonight is leaves, scattered around my feet,

twirling around as my shoes gently hit the ground.
Yellow leaves, reminding me of the fact that nothing is forever.
There is no timeless and frictionless motion.
Everything is bound to time – and friction.

Every other step I take, leaves keep on falling from their branches.
Every other step I take, leaves keep on getting scattered on the ground.

A single leaf is hanging on its branch – a survivor indeed.
As I walk under it, I reach up, to pluck it from its attachment.
Bleached, pale and tired – yet colourful and beautiful.
I toss it on the ground to see it merge with the others.
From sticking out, into complete merging.

Every other step I take, leaves keep on falling from their branches.
Every other step I take, leaves keep on getting scattered on the ground.

Yet inside me,
every other step I take, another seed is starting to grow...