The Last Autumn’s Dress
by Valeria Angelo

My house is big
my house is me.

Someone is whistling for me
Yes?  Who are you?
I follow the call
it is from up, up, up
I go up the stairs
the whistle is coming
from my favorite window
which is ajar
Oh! It is my apple tree
who is calling me
It knows I love its apples.
Then,
I extend my hand
to reach them, but
what I bring back are
leaves dying
They come to tell me
that the tragedy is arriving.

The colors will go to sleep
All my soul gets smaller
my heart shrinks.

Delicately,
I put the leaves away inside
of the little drawer.
Sometimes while
the tragedy of the winter lasts
I open the little drawer
to see the colors
contained in their
last autumn’s dress.
And I look outside through
my favorite window.
Everything I can see is
Blank white.
My soul gets even smaller.
I can’t remember
if rainbows appear in winter.
Beautiful rainbows of colors
in winter.
Then,
All of me gets small and
I put myself inside of the
little drawer wrapped in
my leaves of colors.