Not sure who…

I do adore the view of falling leaves,
the rustling sound as I walk closed-by benches covered by them . Sometimes, there’s stories carved on those benches. You’ll be surprised how comfy it is to sit and stared into million of possibilities yet so overwhelming because the leaves decompose way too fast just as I…

Nah, I’m not praising my poetic feelings… I am merely trying to express my dilemma. Time is an illusion but it feels so real. If I were to sit down and watch the falling leaves like I was doing, it’ll just inspired me to explore more about those leaves. Unfortunately or fortunately, those leaves aren’t mine. I can only watch them. But while watching and almost hearing the rustling sound, Time feels so intangible. It is until I hear “mom” that Time becomes tangible to my senses. I can almost taste it as if it was an ice cream cone in my hand. Mind you, I enjoy ice cream but sometimes is too sweet for me. I think may be that the best solution would be to just sit on that bench and watch the leaves fall and may be I could somehow bring the ice cream too? I am afraid that if I sit too long on that bench contemplating the falling leaves that my ice cream my melt. I’m not a multi tasker. How can I eat my ice cream while contemplating the falling leaves? Either I praise the ice creams taste or the view of the falling leaves? This is why sometimes I say I am not a poet. I’m just someone existing.

Ah such is life. Full of dilemmas.

Perhaps, right now, I am one more who is vandalizing that bench in the garden of your thoughts with my mere thoughts ?