a fall though
Autumn walks into trees,
the scent of bonfires
makes him shake —
leaves coming free,
blast the stay —
make him sway —
before Winter's tone —
and I'm haunted too
from his once colored hues;
she's dying in the growth
but there Autumn's
impart to me —
and leaves can fall —
I envy the trees.
Copyright © Paige Hind | Year Posted 2024
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