Autumn, with it's crisp air and azure skies painting leaves orange, yellow and red.
They twirl to the ground, turning brown, crunching under foot like discarded paper bags.
Lone hawk circles lazily gives a lonesome cry. I wonder whom he cries for, certainly not I.
Or perhaps he does, perhaps he sees my heart. Or what remains of it, since that day when you and I did part.
It was Autumn when I first saw you, and held you so close.
You were so perfect, I could not believe you were mine.
Our Autumn's flew by, their numbers too few.
I always knew one day, I'd have to let you go,
but that winter came too swiftly,
too soon.
Your story still being told, when artic winds swept the pages away.
The ending abrupt.
Darkness descended on my world, as you floated away
to that land where night meets day.
Bittersweet the memories you left behind.
Yet strong remains the love for the boy who once was mine.
