is that you,
killing all the leaves,
turning them a deep dark red,
the color of tree blood
cried through each vein and pore?
Is that you, throwing wind against my windows,
bringing the rain in through the front door,
when I come in from the cold?
I think I saw you earlier today
in the fibers of a man’s puffy jacket
and a woman’s thick wool scarf,
too worried for the cold
to be worried about fashion anymore.
Autumn, is that you,
making the cobblestones
all slippery,
and making me take smaller steps
in order to keep my feet?
Autumn, I thought we had an agreement.
You weren’t to come until I was ready.
And I’m not ready yet.
Spoiler
This wasn't meant to be super good or anything... it was inspired by a friend's fb status. 
Thanks for reading!
Thanks for reading!
