The end of an afternoon
Somewhere in autumn
I helped my father that day
With the harvest of sorghum
The crop leaves the field a copperish skin
Just like the stubbles on my father's chin
The ginger-coloured brows of his eyes
Perfectly matching the autumn skies
We sit in our kitchen
Joined by my sister and cousins
Pleased when our mother serves
Potatoes, carrots and onions
After our meal we talk for a while
Father just listens with a contended smile
Colours so friendly and warm in the light
I feel happy and merry tonight
The sun turns persimmon
Leaves color vermilion
Seasons change as if to say
Nothing will eventually stay
The end of an afternoon
Somewhere November
A walk through the sorghum fields
Is what I still can remember
I saw Iris pull her collar more tight
To protect her skin from the autumn light
Wind breezes freely through her sienna hair
It perfectly matches the autumn air
We enter a small café
And choose the seats near the fire
Potatoes and mushrooms are served
Nothing left to desire
Iris takes her fingers near her bluest eyes
As if she wants to emphasise
The freckles as beauty marks on her face
Then all at once I see my father's grace
The sun turns persimmon
Leaves color vermilion
Seasons change as if to say
Nothing will eventually stay
The sun turns persimmon
Leaves color vermilion
Seasons change as if to say
Nothing will eventually stay
One more time I walk these fields
Where we once harvested sorghum
At the end of an afternoon
Somewhere in autumn