Beauty of Brown

I see shades of green and yellow leaves as I sit out on my balcony;
some leaves look like upside-down hearts dangling from cupid's string.

Next day, the colors bleed toward brown. Why can't it stay still?
Their shades grow dim as if someone is constantly re-editing them.

I pick out a petal from one of the chrysanthemums beneath the trees
and pray that it retains its shape and color as I store it in a hard glass jar.

My memory box keeps old letters that smell of oakmoss and juniper,
the same memory box that keeps my old chrysanthemum petals.

I see shades of yellow and red leaves as I sit under broad daylight
but this time I cannot help but notice the beauty of brown.