Fall often 

Stains our world brown, 

Leaves the color 

Of an old ruddy gold, 

Their tips dry, 

Crinkling with the cold 

You say you want to see fall from my perspective, 
and I laugh, thinking of every maple tree 
I’ve leaned against, 
hands stained by apples split open, 
the cider I’ve spilled on my sleeves. 

Maybe you’re still here

Here in the fall breeze

The pink and gray mittens you bought me

Clutched but not worn

You're still here with me

The Ferrero Rocher you gifted me

Time and time again

Sometimes, fall is “Ribs” by Lorde. It’s the Sun creeping through the sky, giving us a reason to cherish the moment. It’s gooey pecan pie dolloped with vanilla ice cream.

The fleeting feeling,

From the green leaves to yellow, within a matter of days.

The fleeting feeling, 

I stare at you, taking in all of your beauty now that you’re showing me something different 

It’s cute honestly 

How your cheeks get all red when I speak 

I lie down on the ground, looking up towards the eternal, the endless. 

My arm covers my eye, obscuring the natural beauty of man’s creations, 

allowing me to see the wonders 

To tell you

what fall is

if you didn't know

would be the task of a poet,

and even my best words

wouldn't tell you,

really.

I could tell you what it's like

to look up at the hills

Autumn 

The smell of fall breaks through the hot sweaty summer air.

I see the trees start to lose their leaves and turn a bright red and orange. 

The birds that sing 
In the dead of night 
Are just voices 
No one hears 
Silenced by the sounds 
Of the world
And the expected 

The bats that fly 
During the day

fall isn't what you think it is.

fall isn't

pumpkin spice lattes and

smoky bonfires and

cinnamon candles and

your new maroon woolly cardigan that was on sale for

Thanksgiving or Halloween or whatever

warmth,

pumpkin spice lattes

hot, spice-soaked coffee drizzled with a splash of cinnamon

coated with half-melted whipped cream, nestled by the delicate fire,

comfort,

your favorite cardigan