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
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.