Autumn
It
is all because your eyes are like sunflowers; they light up, vanish, and return
to haunt me day after day. And so it goes. I've got a death grip on yesterday and a permanent fear of what will
come tomorrow.
It
is like autumn around here now. The
season that comes before you know it is there. You. You are like autumn. You come in to this room with an air of quiet
mystery and possibility. A fallen
leaf. Twirling through the sky and
grazing past beanie covered heads and scarf enclosed necks. You are the fall. You are beautiful. The irony is the past year. You can’t regret a season because it comes
again, but I’m not so sure about you.
This
is the season that comes too fast and is pushed away by bare, broken limbs when
the temperature dips.
This
is when the days begin to whisper in monochromes of gray.
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