Autumn. 4 Micro Tales.


he will catch

the crimson red

that melts away

from the serene green

and the saffron autumn

that wells up your eyes

daddy’s coming

my lil one

don’t cry


one little butterfly



leaf to leaf


‘grandma: you were right!

i’ve found the heaven you sing of,

and there’s no end in sight!’


trembling hands

sew pretty leaves

on short summer gowns

every few stitches

they steal a long sniff

in a basement in Dhaka

dreaming of the autumn

and the ageing mom

in the village back home


butterflies lined up

behind the sad girl


at his begging:

the boy

on his knees,

as autumn

was about

to start …

‘aim for her belly,

please…  steal her heart?’

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