Falling Down

Hanging dew.
Little dragonfly,
Gliding flew.

Night crawlers walk free on the cozy and foggy roads.

The sound of raindrops
On gables.
Crimson and golden leaves:
Wind rattles.

The breeze of early October makes all drunk while blows.

It’s the Twin Peaks season,
Attains too late.
Disappears very soon.
As the passing pumpkin moon.

Like a dream so phenomenal, like a diamond glows.

Melancholic sense grows.