It is to be
That it will fall upon my books
Upon my lap
Upon my hair.
It will break it between my fingers
And breathe in the dead air
But it flows just as it does.
The trees fade
The sun bleeds
Leaves die
Yet they are full of colour.
Ground becomes a feast of flourishing
A mirror below every branch
The droplets make everything shine
A golden crest cemented into the streets
I bear the familiar shades that brings me
Closer to you, catching each solid moment,
Bronze and maroon, to read you through.
It rises from my mug, clears my mind,
Clears my soul, and wraps me in the warmth
That I crave and keeps me close to you.
November knows me and so do you. All I’ve
Ever wanted, is for your days to last as
Mine grow shorter, but never changing,
As you always fall back to me, and let me
Dream for mornings dipped in crimson.
The hue of my language is casted into words
That brings my lips to part
In eloquence only then, zeal.
The sky joins you in the days of harvest
Forever will I yearn for you to
Depart from that star.
Only do I want to depart in your
Russet heart,
Dear Autumn.