I don't know how you are spending your days. Do you still paint the bluish hue of an open sky or the white dove in flight? Do you still craft out a dancing girl out of thrown away papers? Or dream the things that I always wonder and pair them up to a wonderful dream?

Perhaps not.

It is Autumn here now. You can smell the scent of night-flowering Jasmines when you wake up in the calm early morning. The leaves on the plants are emerald green. But I know it won't remain so long. Soon they will grow yellowish and then coral gray before the winds blow them away. A forest without green, a plant without leave- I wonder for what reason. But then you said it happens for the season, not for the reason, they shed not for the fear of an autumn, but for the hope of a spring. I envy the plants- for their despair of an autumn will be inevitably chased away by the abundance of a spring.

The ducks and waders which migrated away have already returned to the lakes and wetlands. They float, they quack, they dive, they rock. I wonder may be they too are waiting for a spring and a prospective mate. Soon they will collect tiny twigs, decayed ferns and torn leaves and call it home. I envy the birds too- for the spring will arrive for them too as they dream it to be.

Someone said the autumn is here for me too. I know it is, tells me to shed the memories, the memories where once you walked, you smiled, you cried, you fought. I know it is, tells me to paint a new face of a spring on the Barista table where once you sat with a coffee mug and flashing smile. I won't lie to you, I go there often, but always return without a new painting in my heart. I still see the me in the reason defeating the me in the season.

The reason without, there won't be a spring.

The reason without, there won't be a hope.

The reason is you.