Learning to Let Go

Autumn leaves shower like gold, like rainbows,

Tumbling from skies that burn soft with farewell.

They drift on the breath of a world in between -

Not summer, not winter -

just a quiet, aching spell.

Each leaf is a memory, set gently afloat,

A flame turned fragile in the palms of the trees.

Amber, crimson, and sun-spun fire -

A last, tender gift to the earth and the breeze.

The wind curls through the thinning woods,

Soft as a sigh, then sharp as regret.

It rattles the bones of the branches left bare,

Telling stories the heart won’t forget.

The trees, they do not fight the fall.

They do not beg the light to stay.

They simply bow beneath the sky,

And scatter their treasures along the way.

And I -

I walk beneath this golden rain,

A soul stitched tight with threads of change.

The world I knew is shifting fast,

And yet, there’s beauty in the strange.

The air smells like endings, like old poems read aloud,

Like fireside whispers and the hush before snow.

It wraps around me -

brisk, but kind -

A reminder: to hold is to one day let go.

In the hush of rustling leaves I hear

The echoes of a thousand goodbyes -

Loves that bloomed and moved like seasons,

Smiles that faded from familiar skies.

But not all endings are a wound -

Some are a blessing in disguise.

The tree does not mourn the falling leaf,

It trusts the wind, and trusts the rise.

And oh,

how the colors burn before they fade -

A brief, bright blaze before the night.

So even in the letting go,

There’s something fiercely right.

I gather pieces of this hour in my hands:

A leaf still warm with afternoon sun,

A memory sharp with laughter’s echo,

A tear that slipped before the day was done.

Let the wind come -

Let it lift what no longer stays.

Let it carry my worries like leaves from the bough,

And leave only grace in their place.

I am not broken -

I am becoming,

Like the trees,

stripped bare yet full of truth.

There is a kind of strength in the shedding,

A kind of wisdom born in youth.

So I will dance beneath this rain of gold,

This symphony of things released.

And with each falling, swirling leaf,

I’ll find a little more peace.

For life, like autumn, asks us all:

To bloom, to burn, to break, to bend -

And in the beauty of its falling,

To trust the art of every end:)