When bright yellow ginkgo leaves scatter in the wind,
do you find yourself longing for a season now gone?
When crimson maple leaves crunch beneath your feet,
does someone who left come drifting back to mind?
I wait for you until this autumn breathes its last,
watching in silence as the years deepen without a word.
Surely I am no lonelier than the fading fall itself.
O song of fallen leaves, dropping one by one —
love and memory drift away on the passing wind,
and bare branches tremble as winter draws near.
Autumn may leave, but longing will remain.
Text and photos by Kim Byung-jin
kbj7653@heraldcorp.com
