The deciduous forest

The deciduous forest had now been weary

Of shedding leaves yet again, this year,

Just like it had done, the year prior to this,

And prior to that, just like it had been doing,

All its life. The trees inhabiting that forest

Had now wished to give up on

The endless cycle of losing life, being

Sucked out of life, and regenerating that breath,

Yet again. How it wished to be

The equatorial evergreen forest, blessed with

An exodus of rainfall, the warmth of sunrays,

All of its life, its every living day,

How it wished to live that way, one day,

Or at least for a day. For, the deciduous forest

Hasn't ever been scared of losing its li

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fe,

Of shedding those leaves, devoid of any green,

All of the rusty reds and oranges, the brown

Overtaking. It is now fed up of

Generating the pale green leaves, the tender ones,

Yet again, all from scratch, it is now

Scared of a new beginning, for, it knows,

How this new beginning is to, one day,

Culminate on the dried grounds, as brittle leaves.

It simply does not wish to now,

Give up on life, on breath, each year,

And being coerced into regenerating the same life,

With an expected same vigour, the next year.

It just wishes to be the omnipresent,

The never-dying, as it speculates to be

The evergreen equatorial forest.