The autumn winds they blow,
The trees have gone bare
The clouds have made some snow,
But there sat the man on the chair.
He sat on the chair in all the seasons,
Taking little to no food and sleep
But no one knew the reasons,
To why he would stay and weep.
One day I approached his figure,
Cautious as to not disturb,
The man sat just near the river,
As I sat and observed.
The man took one glance at me,
Before breaking into tears.
He told me with a voice that wasn’t free,
“What happened to the years!”
He told me his story,
How his son had died in the stream
His long earned glory
Had been forgotten like a dream.
I tried to comfort him with my hand,
Reaching for his shoulder,
It truly was grand,
To give him a feeling of closure.
--Ronit S., 3rd-6th Grade