He walked

December, that month in which even the trees wilt, but how could he stand??????
Questioning his mind, constantly scratching, as he walked on those leafs crunch came the voice. Those trees neatly lined up on either side of that track, those sag leafs neatly brushed into piles after a pause. He learned something, something that was oddly true yet so pinching, that truth hidden in those piles. "Never to be green again, never to be attached", those lines played over a loop.
Hands in the pockets of his brown corduroy pants, warmed by that grey overcoat that flew just below his waste, kicking those stray leaves with his pointy dark brown shoes.
He walked passively with his head bent down as the sun light hid behind those light grey clouds in that evening, a cold breeze touched his soul.................
He walked...............