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The Children of Autumn

written by: Mohamed Ait Ali


Let's sit
on this garden bench
and mellow out,
Let's sit
and notice strangers
disappearing amidst the certain fog.
Let's sit
and look for a tender kiss
from this life harsh to weary men.
Let's sit
and listen to the dulcet tones
of autumn leaves vibrating seconds and hours.
Let's sit
without a cigarette to occupy our mouth
without black glasses to hide the sadness in our eyes.
Let's sit
Let's rebel at love and friendship.
Let's rage! rage! rage! like sea waves.
Let's sit
and hold a dream within
this body ripped apart by unanswered cravings.
Let's sit
and follow and yearn over the children of autumn.
Let's sit,
sit differently than lords in their thrones.
Let's sit
and figure out the puzzle of this evening
raising the curtains for this sentimental night.
Let's sit
like a criminal on trial
like a fellow who sits solely to think and to cogitate.
Let's sit
and learn by heart
the sounds of autumn, the little bird chirping his joy,
the dog barking his superiority at a submissive cat,
the yellow school bus beeping the horn of futile education.
Let's sit
and follow
this autumn
in its wilting habits.
let's sit
and force-feed our hearts
with a smile stolen from strangers,
with a determined look from the stargazers of this town,
with watching people sink low,
the quintessence of our sadness.
let's sit
and let's motion Autumn
to his favorite bench
beside us.

Mohamed Ait Ali

Mohamed Ait Ali

I am a 26 year old cynic man, I earned some degrees in renewable energies and energy efficiency but most importantly a poet: the sole thing that is capable of grounding me and to sleep off my sorrow. I survived a suicide attempt and learnt a lot about life, that is from my point of view mostly saddening and harsh.
Mohamed Ait Ali

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