first, upon the mountains,

a chill creeps...

sneaks...

leaps with a menace of discomfort,

warmth is murdered,

the walls of autumn seem to be broken

and the siege begins

 

the mountains,

grim friends!

they have connived and condoned with

the suicidal hour,

broadcasting, mailing, telegram, sending

this bleak message to all,

that master frost, reigns supreme

due to the dismal mutiny of time!

 

the autumn is a traitor!

where is it?

GONE!

it was supposed to protect us!

Prevent nature from putting

us in the fridge

 

but then!

a victor returns!

a mighty warrior, from the exile

night gave!

and soaring above the sky majestically with

a boastful laugh,

brings the chilly siege to an end

with the grand brandish of sunshine

and you can feel the sunlight,

dancing in the sky,

we'd rather prefer this tyrant,

to the other wouldn't we?

O what a magnificent tyranny!

                                                       By Kakraba Afful


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