Skip to main content

Autumn Leaves


I held my best friend’s hand as we sat on a bench, swinging our legs, underneath a silver maple tree in Baltimore. It was spring and the weather was slowly getting warmer. Since I would soon leave for India, the two of us were determined to spend as much time together as possible.

“I promise I’ll never forget you,” I said, breaking the silence of the rustling leaves and chittering birds. My best friend glanced at me. The wind blew through her dark brown hair. A sad fire glowed in her soft brown eyes.
“I promise I’ll always remember you. I promise I’ll always stay in touch,” I continued.
She smiled at me, “I promise the same.” We sat in silence for some time, reliving the memories of the last four years that we had spent together – going to the same school, running down the road in front of the apartment, playing with our toy animals, walking through the glade that led to the park…

“What do you promise on?” she asked suddenly. I glanced around the bench on which we were sitting. A green meadow stretched in front of us for as far as the eye could see. On our left rose a mighty building. On our right was a tulip garden in full bloom. Nothing worth promising on met my five-year-old eyes, that is, not until I turned back.

Staring at the silver maple, I smiled inwardly and said, “I promise on the leaves of this big tree that we will be best friends forever and ever.” My friend looked at me and smiled, apparently satisfied. We spent the rest of the afternoon playing tag in the meadow as our parents sat at a distance and relaxed.

Spring morphed into summer and the tree grew even more, achieving a height of twenty metres. Its leaves turned an interesting colour – the tops were dark green, and the undersides silver. With the coming of September, came autumn. The leaves first turned a sickly yellow colour, and then brown. The tree started shedding leaves with the onset of winter. The last leaf, the leaf I had been looking at while making the promise, fell on eighth December, my friend’s birthday.

By mid-January, the vast tree was burdened with pounds of snow.

Alas! Autumn leaves may be beautiful; broken promises are not.

I may not have known then, but I know now – trees re-grow their leaves during spring.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Clothes on the Bedroom Floor

  Clothes litter the bedroom floor, Memories of a lover's heart ripped and thrown, Fading like the will to knock on the door And pick up the pieces that have now been outgrown. The blue sweater truly suited you - White stripes from a country not my own... It saw the sun rise over a ballsy victory or two Before sinking to the floor, heavier than stone. On the same stained floor lie clothes of the night, Once shared with love amongst you and I Till you lost your drive and all strength to fight While I abandoned the energy to cry. The cargo pants were his to rock, Dotted with pockets to carry his smile... Now it lies lopsided, contorted like a keyless lock, Only to be stepped on with scorn every once in a while. And there - a friend's jade jerkin, a union's sign, Both still thriving and alive, Though now I can call neither of them mine - Too tired to buzz with the busy bees of the hive. That black jacket was a gift from the dead To provide an illusion of warmth in a land of sn...
2 comments
Read more

Memories of 2020

Remember that ride to school When a spider fell on you? You screamed so loud I slipped off the seat. But you don't 'Cause that's a memory we never made. Remember that day we got late Hence I was running up the stairs? Suddenly I tripped, And brought you down with me. But you don't 'Cause that's a memory we never made. Remember when you forgot your breakfast So we had to share mine? We sat 'neath the trees outside, And he saw you for the first time. But you don't 'Cause that's a memory we never made. Remember that time you didn't do your homework And he let you copy his? He called it your first date. You were so happy. But you don't 'Cause that's a memory you never made. Remember when I discovered That that quiet girl had the same interests as me? We'd spend our breaks in the library Discussing everything. But you don't 'Cause that's a memory I never made. Remember the tears we shed During our farewell party? We exc...
2 comments
Read more

The Lass

Past the footprints on the muddy track If you walk through the grazing grass, Find you will a knife stained and black With old blood from a young lass. Follow the drops and you shall see Flattened grass where the dull spots end, A young lass with tears running free To form a river just 'round the bend. Born from a puddle of red despair, Flowing through a barren way To the sea and from there the air, Resting in the gathering clouds of the ending day. All the lass had ever needed was a shoulder; Now her own tears rain down to wash away sorrow, For no kind voice ever told her Of the light that shone in the morrow. Her tears stay to water the tired, Her blood forever staining the silent ground; The Earth shall rise to claim the wired, Only then will start the sound Of what made the lass the knife to yield? However did she drown in despair? Why did she keep her secrets sealed As she sought to destroy all beyond repair? Perhaps she'll hear from the starry sky The apologies and condol...
2 comments
Read more