The time runs through us...

Autumn...

Outside ... rain of leaves. 

The leaves are like butterflies that grow from the tree's branches.

They live for a while in tree's thoughts about life.

Then, it takes place in the memories of our autumns, somewhere at the shelter that belongs under the rustle of our shoe's soles.

Under the leaf's rustle stay our loves.

Or autumn’s loves ...

The rain cries for their missing ...

Trees undressed autumn of nostalgia ...

I look at you.

I get more beautiful with every glance towards you.

Autumn...

Outside, rain of fallen leaves... 

Tempus fugit, www.card-photo.com

Inside, our hearts...

Still miss their love ...