Autumn’s Reflection

By Sanjana Shome

I used to hate autumn.

Always glowing, always noticed —

golden light catching every eye,

yet somehow passing over me.

The wind bends toward everyone else.

The light lingers where I cannot reach,

and the cold wraps around me like a quiet companion,

wondering why you favour everyone so freely but me.

Laughter drifts through the winding paths,

warmth resting softly where I cannot follow.

Leaves fall for others to crush beneath their joy —

glorious, fleeting, wasted.

Moments vanish too quickly,

slipping through my fingers,

brilliance fading before I can hold it.

I watch in silence,

wishing for even a flicker to reach me.

Everyone adores you—

the crisp air that wakes the heart,

the golden glow that softens everything,

the restless branches whispering delight.

And still, it irritates me —

because it moves through the world so freely,

touching everyone but me.

The brilliance, the warmth, the fleeting joy —

all meant for others, while I grasp at shadows.

Bit by bit, I finally understood.

A stray warmth lingers around me,

a whisper pauses, as if remembering me,

and a golden fragment drifts my way.

Even in its flaws, its fleeting brilliance —

I find traces I cannot ignore.

The season I resented

has always carried your reflection.

Now I see the bare trees,

the fading leaves, the dimming light,

and I understand the quiet beauty —

the patience and generosity,

the way autumn gives and let’s go,

even when unseen.

I love autumn.