Grasping The Past

Fallen leaves,

helplessly blown away by the wind.

Does anyone remember how turgid they were?

On the branches,

 nothing could make them fall.

And now.

They fall and die.

Summer comes swiftly,

and leaves swiftly,

Nothing is left behind.

The Blooming Flowers, The Leafy trees

The Beauty, The Colours.

The Cheers, The Fire

The Happiness, The Adoration.

All gone.

What takes place are,

The Fallen leaves, The Dead trees.

The Dirty, The Monotony,

The Sad Howl, The Coldness,

The Loneliness, The Depression.

The warm sun that was once here,

left.

Leaving the freezing wind to break free.

And make the world cold.

All good things come to an end.

Dwelling at memory isle,

Grasping the past,

Not letting go.

Looking at the flower,

now dead.

How beautiful was it?

Beyond description.

Looking at the field,

Where are all the flowers?

Why didn't I savour that moment?

Now it's left.

How do i preserve a field of flowers?

How do i stop at that moment forever?

How do i turn everything back to how it was?

How do I undo, the wrong things that I did?

How do I undo the wrong things that I said?

The merciless wind's blowing,

and still I'm dwelling,

lingering,

at the past that has long left.

How do I let go of a flower?

That will never bloom again.

How do I unclench my hand, 

and let the past leave?