𝓌 ₐ ₗ ₖ ᵢ ₙ 𝓰 ₕ ₒ ₘ ₑ .

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The wine coloured leaves spilt onto the pavemented pathway,

seeming like pressed flowers within an old romantic classics novel.

walking through the rippling, frigid, cold, with eyes casted downwards, upon the road.

Wondering upon when the blood red stain on the road resembling a piece called "Red Ochre" dated way back when, in the early 14000 BC would ever wipe out by the disrupting passing cars,

All the while engraving more of the already fossilized scarlet leaves into the road ahead.

Though at the same time wiping out the rich reds of the long gone leaves.

capsuling the ancient looking collage onto the pathway I walked upon.

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