Time is kind on me, he always tells me that I'm his little toy, and that he adores to direct me toward him and seeing me running to follow him. I've lost my desire to talk a long time ago and my words are absent from the places. The thing which confused my future step, so it went back to shake and hurt me a little, and since this time announced that he is coming. I knew that I'm definitely falling in the seasons' cavities, and I'm lovingly lost in them. Searching for new details that look like me. My words aren't for reading, I've decided so many times to stop, to sit with myself without writing down notes. Without hanging feelings. Without retaining looks. But this thing doesn't work. I'm here, and again I'm scattering my autumn's words here and there. I let them fall In order to be relieved from all the weight. I let myself to hold the responsibility for the consequences of their fall. There's nothing that worries me, but some of health bumps and the arrangements of my studying. There are no axes for the word. There are no attitudes. Yet, I find myself here. I pick the grass that grows on the edges of hazel trees. I pick the nostalgia that grows on the cells of time. And I collect a lot of brown and yellow leaves. And I sing songs of the autumn that everyone sings Yes, I'm traditional and everyone of us is traditional in the autumn of his life. The only thing is that my autumn agrees with the timing of the nature's autumn. I fall like it, to return tender.

Opinion articles which are published in the Syrian Youth Assembly do not express the viewpoint of this foundation. They only express the viewpoints of the writers.

Batool Mohammad

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