Take a walk in the park. Boots and scarf. Pale sun rays like the strained strings of invisible violin pierce the misty air ready to be touched by the fiddler’s hand. Listen to the prelude notes carried by the leaves as they’re falling down slowly called for by the gravity of the Earth. One after another. The notes drop, each in solitude of a single piano key. C flat, then E flat and a couple of G’s. Scattered over the ground they wait to be picked up. To be taken. Carried in one’s hand. The flowers of Autumn days. A multicoloured symphony of nature. A music to one’s ears. Take a walk in the park. Inhale the freshness of crisp air slightly scented with that special perfume of moisture, a signature of Fall. Shuffle your feet in the piles of fallen leaves, find the biggest heap and dive into it with a laugh. Let the amber fingers stroke your face as you look into the green eyes of the Fall, spellbound by her smile. Play with a capful of the wind that slips in between the leaf sheets and rustles them carelessly until they cannot breathe overwhelmed by the passion of his touch. And when you sop in all the wonder of a moment, pick few colourful notes, carry them within your heart. Wait when the Autumn’s day is done and leave them on a bench where you once sat with the one you loved. As a reminder of the moment shared, written down for the record on a post it notes.