Autumn is lonely.
Dead leaves take to
running with the wind,
Their tiny legs
skittering against the brown grass
In a dance of
nostalgia and breathless laughter.
Wind fills my
lungs,
And its scent is
sweet and cold
As it infects my
soul with a deep longing.
My hair flows with
it, wildly yet gently stroking my face.
And I hear the
footsteps of days long gone,
And of people whose
voices are background noise to my journey.
Will I remember
them?
Perhaps not, but
like the warmth of my coffee, they linger
For now.
Clouds, in the
brilliant blue sky, we float away from the older days.
But the sun warms
my heart and calms my wanderlust.
Perhaps for forever
I will live in this moment
Of warmth and
contentment
Of dead leaves and
the sweet, lonely smell of fall.
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