Working title

Ashes turned to diamonds
As poets turned to dust
The fall brought along nothing
But leaves that were done with the withering

His puffed raincoat felt out of place
Autumn wasn’t particularly a wet time
When approached he replied
Its better than the shirt laced with dust and grime

I looked down at my feet as i turned away
Thinking of the man with the raincoat gave me chills

It was strange and oh so queer.
Who was this man standing in the desert with a pair of garden sheers.

Days turned to weeks
Which further turned to months

I went back to the same spot
And found a man.
Standing odd like a beetroot in a pea pod
I walked upto him and glanced at the face.
It was him.
Wearing a long overcoat on the hot September afternoon

I asked him who he was.
He smiled and said i knew you’d return
Thank you for visiting again.

He told me about himself and his pledge to his wife.
On a rainy January night she had lost her life.
He stood at the spot everyday wearing a different coat.

The seasons change for me but for her it’ll always be rainy and cold.

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