Seasons change their innocent lifestyle

I am bit inquisitive of bees collect pollen
from the flowers swollen.
And they prepare for the coming Autumn.
A decayed old tree little embarrassed
And I inquire the reason.
'I am quite old dear and do you know the bitter joy of being an old?
Every year the cruel Autumn comes and snatch my poor innocent leaves
And I am certain this time I won't be able to face another spring again.'

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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