By Yasmeen Garg
The leaves of the fall are gone,
no rustle, the woods stand still,
as the branches split open the sky,
of the trees that dance in the wind.
I walked through the leaf-strewn path,
that cuts apart the woods in two.
The crunch of the gravel beneath my feet,
a magic that before I never knew.
What I felt I can’t explain,
that bliss cannot be defined,
as I danced to the song of the wind,
within the woods that was…