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The Children of Autumn
written by: Mohamed Ait Ali
on this garden bench
and mellow out,
and notice strangers
disappearing amidst the certain fog.
and look for a tender kiss
from this life harsh to weary men.
and listen to the dulcet tones
of autumn leaves vibrating seconds and hours.
without a cigarette to occupy our mouth
without black glasses to hide the sadness in our eyes.
Let's rebel at love and friendship.
Let's rage! rage! rage! like sea waves.
and hold a dream within
this body ripped apart by unanswered cravings.
and follow and yearn over the children of autumn.
sit differently than lords in their thrones.
and figure out the puzzle of this evening
raising the curtains for this sentimental night.
like a criminal on trial
like a fellow who sits solely to think and to cogitate.
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.
in its wilting habits.
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.
and let's motion Autumn
to his favorite bench